


The Universe's Doorstep

by Fishish3re



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ACT TWO TAGS COMING, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Awkward Keith (Voltron), Character Development, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, For the most part, Galra Keith (Voltron), Healthy Relationships, IF YOU DONT WANT SPOILERS STOP READING THE TAGS, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith Has Nightmares (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lance Has Nightmares (Voltron), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Blood, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, SPOILERS FOR ACT ONE BELOW, adjusting to life again, non-toxic relationships thank you, post-allura's death, rachel has my entire heart, supportive family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishish3re/pseuds/Fishish3re
Summary: Keith has never been so nervous--not while fighting the Galra, and certainly not while flying a massive metal lion--than he is to meet Lance's family. It's stupid, he thinks, being afraid of a room full of people his boyfriend adores, but he's better suited for fighting, which is why he's glad he's only staying two weeks.Lance is wrong three times. He thought returning home would be easy, he thought Keith had the same plans as him, and he thought he was done with the war.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 157





	1. Act I, Chapter I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home.

_June 24 - The Garrison, NE_

Lance can feel exhaustion in every bone, muscle, and vein in his body. He feels old injuries flaring up again as if they can hear the beeping of monitors and smell of alcohol and are awoken by it, gnawing at him to do something about it.

Besides the physical, his mind struggles to keep up, sick of the endless questions and logistics that he could never fully grasp. Too much changes every second, and he's hopelessly drowning in information (has my family gotten in yet? No, my shoulder isn't dislocated, it's just been weird ever since I got blasted. I can't really explain how the lions work, they just do. Can I see my family yet? Quintessence, yes, spelled Q-U-I-N-T... shut up, Keith. E-S-S-E-N-C-E?).

Worse than his physical and mental state is his emotional state. He's upset for reasons he doesn't fully understand. The military personnel pisses him off. The doctors, meaning well, only make him more upset. Even Keith at times manages to make him frustrated with his clam attitude, which is how Lance knows he isn't being rational.

It isn't until he sees a mom and a son walk past that he realizes why he's verging on a mental breakdown.

"Can I see my family now?" Lance asked impatiently, leg jumping.

Keith's hand squeezes in his, silently hoping to calm him down, to tell him to him wait. He ignores it. The soldier in front of him hesitates, glancing to the tablet full of questions to get through, on page seventy-something with no sign of slowing down. How does anyone even come up with all of them?

"I understand, sir, but if you could just tell us how to stop the lions if necessary--"

"Look," he snaps, wincing at his own tone. Keith grips tighter. He shakes him off. It isn't an unknown planet that might start shooting, its Earth, and his family's so close it aches. "The lions do whatever they want. If they're leaving, don't bother to stop them."

"I-I see, but—"

"Just let them hang out for a bit until we figure it out. Can I see my family now?"

The soldier looks down at the tablet. Lance knows his answer before he speaks, leaning into Keith's shoulder. He closes his eyes. Keith is right, of course, he should let it go, but he just wants to see his mom again.

"We're almost to the end, so if you could just answer--"

Keith interrupts, making both Lance and the soldier look up. Lance straightens. "We've been here for hours, and I'm pretty sure we've given more than enough information. We'll be in contact if anything comes up."

The soldier grimaces. "I'm sorry. I have to get through the questions."

The tension deflates. Lance nods numbly. He understands, they both do. They've been soldiers under the command of others. They've been at the lowest point of authority. It's a wall they can't pass with good conscience, can't fight their way through.

He expects Keith will turn back to his own conversation, giving up as well.

"Okay, what's the next one?" Lance asks.

"What if I answer the rest?"

For the second time, Lance and the soldier turn towards him, blinking.

"What?" Lance asks.

"What if I answer them for him?" His voice wasn't hard before, but it softens, meant only for Lance in a way that makes his heart pound. "I'll finish both of ours, you can go see your family, and I'll come join you in a bit."

He searches his eyes, feeling his chest inflate. A smile spreads across his lips. "Really?"

Keith gives an amused smile. He turns to the soldier. "Does that work?"

He looks hesitant, but he nods, giving an apologetic smile to Lance that makes him feel bad for snapping. "Alright." He looks to his fellow soldier, a girl who lingers awkwardly by Keith. "We'll go to meeting room F. Can you..."

He gives a general gesture that seems to say _deal with him_. Lance figures that's fair. He stands with Keith, pulling him in as he tries to follow the solder to the door. He speaks in a low tone. He doesn't want anyone to hear, especially not the soldiers.

"This doesn't mean you're getting out of meeting my family."

Keith cracks a smile. "I wouldn't miss it," he promises. "And I think 'thank you' is the phrase you've suddenly forgotten how to use."

Lance presses his hands to his jaw, cupping either side, kissing him. "Thank you," he adds for good measure, as if the kiss wasn't enough of an answer. Keith smiles softly, eyes sparkling, and Lance melts under them, feeling him pull away.

"Be back soon," Lance calls after him. "The longer you're gone, the longer I get to make up lies about you."

Keith turns, walking backwards. "You wouldn't dare."

"He's actually got a hidden second head. It's a Galra thing."

The door closes before Keith gets a chance to respond. He shakes his head through the glass window, turning and flipping him off over his shoulder before disappearing down the corner.

The soldier Keith was talking to lingers, only making Lance wipe his stupid grin off his face when she speaks. "Sir, would you like me to show your family to this room, or would you rather meet them downstairs?"

He blinks, his heart jumping to his throat. His mood slams the opposite direction with the intensity of a water balloon splattering against a wall. He can barely breathe.

"Oh, uh, I'll come down."

She gives him a kind smile. She reminds him a little of Allura in a way that sends pangs through his chest. She has the same gentle eyes, caramel rather than blue, the same dark skin. A braid falls down her shoulders. She nods, starting towards the door, careful to be sure he's following.

They turn into the hallway. Like the room, the scent of rubbing alcohol is strong, complimented by a smell he's never been able to place other than in a hospital. It's all so clean that he feels out of place. He's sure he looks gross; he hasn't showered since the day before yesterday, he's barely slept, and he's still wearing their paladin bodysuit. He's glad he at least has a pair of jeans (albeit growing a little small for him) and his jacket (open, as the zipper had broken a few months back and he hasn't found the time to figure out how to fix it).

He suddenly feels self-conscious. He hasn't seen his family in years, and-- how long has it been anyways? He tries to count on his fingers. It was about three years they lost to the quintessence field. Shit. Three years. Marco could've had another kid in just that time. No, Marco could've had a _two year old_ in that time. That's not even counting how long he feels like it's been, which must be around... two years? Two and a half? Shit, he doesn't even know.

He stares down at his fingers. Five. He feels sick.

Victoria would've graduated high school without him. Hell, she probably graduated _college_ already. He's going to throw up. They spent years planning to walk the stage right after each other, to celebrate the milestones together, and now...

He leans against the pale wall, closing his eyes, searching for air.

Was Rachel married? Was his abuela still alive? He missed Luis' graduation, too. He's actually going to throw up all over the tile squares, head spinning, choked breaths getting more panicked.

"Are you okay?"

He opens his eyes to Allura's face, Allura who died, who's gone because he couldn't find a better way, dead and gone and--

"Breathe."

He takes in a shuddered breath, heart pounding. He closes his eyes. "Sorry."

"You're okay. How long has it been?"

He exhales, then fully inhales before responding. "Five years."

"Well, that explains why you're nervous."

She has a light humor to her voice, one that Lance weakly shares, corners of his lips twitching. He tries to clear his mind.

"I mean, I don't call my mom for a week and she's already ready to disown me."

He lets out a weak laugh. He remembers feeling like that, rushing to his room at the Garrison to call her after forgetting he promised.

"I just feel like I missed so much," he chokes out, not quite sure why he's sharing his problems with a soldier he met for the first time about six hours ago and hadn't talked to until five minutes ago.

She doesn't say anything for a moment. "Well, yeah, I guess you kind of did." He opens his eyes, giving her a raised expression. She blinks. "What, was I supposed to lie to you?"

He hums, tilting his head to the side. He shrugs. "I expected you to."

"Would it make you feel better if I lied now?"

"Probably not," he says with a breath of a laugh. "Thanks, though."

They start to walk down the hall again.

"I'm just saying, things are probably going to be different, but, like, maybe it'll be a good different."

He has a dream, one he thought about in battle and late at night, when Keith had already fallen asleep. He dreams of the sand beneath his feet, spraying behind them and they race into the water. He dreams of Keith's hands, gripping his, his laugh sweet on his lips like the nectar from a mango. He dreams of the salty waves as they crash into them with the same force that hit the shore, wind blowing their hair across their eyes, clothes soaked, freedom singing from his ribcage the same way flying used to feel before it was life and death.

Moving through the hallways, his ribs feel sickeningly tight. He wonders if the dream will ever feel real, or if too much has changed--if too much is broken.

She leads him into the elevator. Lance watches her press the ground floor, trying not to freak out again as they get closer and closer to the floor they're on.

"Plus, at least you know they'll be proud of you," she shrugs. He looks over. She meets his eyes, a flicker of amusement in them. "I mean, hell, if you save the universe and your parents still aren't proud, you aren't the problem."

He laughs. "What's your name?" He finally asks, now that he can look at her without his mind aching with Allura's memory.

"Elizabeth Hanes."

"God, I missed Earth names. So easy to remember."

"I bet."

The elevator doors open. He takes a deep breath, stepping outside. The layout is different, less of a hospital and more of a lobby. Elizabeth leads him to the left, past the exit to outside, which he stares at, the leaves and trees and dirt almost making him ditch his plan and rush outside. She leads him down a hall, stopping twenty feet from the end of the hall.

"They're through those double doors," she says, gesturing.

He smiles. "Thank you."

He moves towards the doors with a haunting sense of foreboding. Every step feels as terrifying and thrilling as flying with Blue for the first time or taking a chance with his and Keith's relationship. He doesn't know if he should go faster or stop, sprint for the doors or barely falter through them. He closes his eyes, hand hesitating on the handle. He takes a deep breath, blinking open on the rubber bottom of the door, pushing it open.

His air collapses. The room is like a traditional waiting room, filled with nobody but his family. The fluorescent lights are a bit jarring. It seems like a forgotten section of the base, one not quite as lavish as the entryway and the labs he's seen so far. It's somehow so beautifully simple now.

His eyes catch his mom's first, who leaps to her feet, arms open wide. He chokes out a laugh, rushing into her arms and holding tight, the tears already starting to come.

"Lance, _mijo_ ," she cries as he closes the gap.

"I'm here, mama."

"Oh, ¡ _qué alto eres_!" Her hands move from his shoulders to his back, back to his neck, neck to the back of his head, pressing tight as if memorizing every point of contact all over again.

"I think he's taller than you, Luis," Rachel adds, moving in closer. He catches her eyes, biting his lips together in an attempt to keep in some emotion, failing horribly. He sniffs, wiping his eyes on his shoulder, staying locked in the hug.

"Ah, not yet," Luis says. His hand ruffles his hair. Lance doesn't turn to check if Rachel is right, leaning into his touch.

"Mama, let one of us get a turn," Rachel says, her hands already finding his shoulder.

"I'll come back, mama. Promise." He can barely get the words out.

Only then does she loosen her arms, and Lance buries in Rachel's hug next, squeezing his eyes shut in her neck. She holds him just as tight. Veronica finds a place in the hug, forcing Lance to pull back a little, meeting her eyes.

"I'm gonna kill you," Veronica says, forcing a smile on her face despite the tears that rush down her cheeks. "Going to space without me."

He lets out another teary, breathy laugh, lowering his gaze with his head as he hugs them both, an arm for each wrapping around their shoulders. "I'll bring you next time," he promises.

He pulls back, turning. Luis is there, wasting no time before his arms are around him. His eyes catch his dad's over Luis' shoulder. He puts a hand on his shoulder, eyes sparkling. He smiles, heart beating so fast he felt like it would burst, the aching of homesickness not cured but inflamed, pounding and throbbing at him.

Normally, when back from school, he'd let his dad get away with his shoulder pats and smiles. Now, he pulls away, nearly falling into his hug. It's longer than Luis'. It's even longer than Veronica and Rachel's.

"Where's Marco?" He asks, still holding tight. Fear lodges in his throat.

"He's okay," Rachel rushes, no doubt knowing where his mind threatens to go. "The kids were getting restless, so he and Lisa took them out."

His breath shudders. "Kids?" He repeats, the smile hurting his face. He pulls back, meeting her eyes. "How many?"

He tries to do the math in his head. Sylvio must be seven or eight by now. He wonders achingly if he remembers him. He knows the answer. He was only two at the time. There's no way he remembers him reading to him and helping him on the playground by their house, making farm animal noises so loud Lance was worried someone would complain.

"One more," Luis says. "Nadia. She's three."

He sniffs again, trying to wipe away the stupid tears, but they just keep coming. His mom swoops back in for his promise of another hug. "And abuela?"

"She wanted to come," Rachel says, "but she's getting old, and we agreed traveling wasn't the best."

He's getting all his questions answered, and he knows it's only a matter of time before the focus shifts to him. It happens all at once.

"Are you hurt, _mijo_?"

At the same time, Veronica starts. "What happened? You have to tell us everything."

"When can you come home?" Luis asks.

He laughs again, the energy just how he remembers it, and he wonders hopefully if Elizabeth was wrong, if it'll all be the same, if he can just go back to the life he had before.

"No, mama," he starts. "I'm okay."

He's about to address the story when his dad asks quietly, "When can you come home?"

He pulls back. "I don't know," he admits, turning to the rest of the group, back to the door. "I haven't talked to anyone other than Keith since last night."

It's true. He also hasn't eaten since last night. The Paladins had blown off the questions to have dinner the night before together, sitting on the floor of the hangar with boxes of pizza, a food all of them missed and could never seem to recreate as good as they were on Earth. It had been nice, a momentary break, but there was so much going on it was hard to keep track of everyone, much less their collective plan.

He's pretty sure Hunk and Pidge were working with the scientists the last he heard, sharing information about quintessence and helping to fortify Earth. Shiro seemed to be in charge of relaying cultural norms of other planets, helping to create a map of the universe.

Lance and Keith, therefore, were stuck with the questions people were most curious about—the lions. Keith knows more about their strengths and weaknesses, how they were in battle, while Lance can speak more to the bond between Paladin and lion.

He hopes Keith is doing okay. He worries about him even now, on Earth, no battle to be found.

"Who's Keith?" Rachel asks, jumping on the statement like a mountain lion. She's always quick to pick up on things the rest of his family skips past, deadly accurate. "He your boyfriend?"

It's meant as a joke, but Lance feels his cheeks heat up, lips parting.

Veronica grabs his hands. "You got a space boyfriend? Where is he?"

"Lance got a space boyfriend?" A voice behind him asks, voice deep and playful.

Lance spins. Marco stands at the doorway, Lisa beside him. He's hand in hand with Sylvio, wearing a jacket and nice clothes. He's put together, more than Lance remembers. Beside him, Lisa holds Nadia, a bright smile matching her husband's.

Sylvio breaks away as soon as he turns, running towards him. Lance's heart twists, fully ready to start crying again. He kneels to fit Sylvio's hug, slamming into him with an impact that feels like Yellow's paw on his shaky form. He pulls back almost immediately, bouncing with too much energy to keep up with. Lance's tired mind kicks up his effort.

"Is it true you have a lion rocket ship? And you got to fight super bad aliens with guns?" He mimes a gun, shooting it with spit blasting from his lips. "And you went all 'pew' 'pew' and they were all 'ahhhh!'"

Marco meets them before Lance can answer. "Let him breathe, Sylvio, I'm sure he'll tell you all his stories soon."

Lance stands, hugging Marco. His hand claps against his back.

"Okay! But can you tell it with all the gun sounds like this?" He goes into another round, only quieted by Lisa.

He laughs. Marco pulls back. "You'll think it's amusing until you have to live with it," he says, a glint in his eye filling Lance with a new wave of emotion. It's a comfortable expression on Marco's face, a content one, one that seems to imply that a lot of things have gone right that Lance doesn't know about yet.

Lance meets Lisa's eyes from over Marco's shoulder, eyes falling to Nadia.

"This is my little sister!" Sylvio says, running over to her.

"Her name's Nadia," Marco says gently, moving to the side. Lance steps closer, Lisa meeting them, bouncing the child in her arms.

"Nadia," Lisa says. "Can you say hi to Lance?"

She curls into her mom's neck, eyes still on him. "Hi," she says shyly.

"Hi. How old are you?"

She looks at her fingers, placing up three clumsily before pushing them as far out as they can go, tiny fingers spread as far out as possible.

"Wow! How many is that?"

"Three," she says, a giggle falling from her lips.

"I'm seven!" Sylvio says, holding up seven fingers to prove it.

Lance leans down, not fully kneeling but enough to be closer to his level. "You sure are. I don't even know if I could pick you up anymore." Sylvio giggles as he picks him up, making strained noises. He held him up over his head. "Aha! I guess I'm too strong."

"So who's this boyfriend?" Marco asks.

He holds Sylvio at a more comfortable position. "His name's Keith," he starts. "He's the pilot of the red lion."

Marco ruffles Sylvio's hair as he squirms. He takes him from his arms, lowering him to the ground.

"Is he tall?" Rachel asks.

"Is he cute?" Veronica adds.

"Where is he?"

"Uh, a little taller than me, yeah. Very cute." Lance gives a sheepish grin. "He's finishing answering my questions for me."

"Questions?" Marco asks.

"For the government. Or Earth. Whatever."

"You've been on Earth two days and he's already doing your work for you?" Luis jokes.

Lance grins. "Hey, it was his idea. He should be out soon."

"Is he coming home with us?" His mom asks, a hidden meaning in her words obvious to every person in the room except maybe Sylvio and Nadia.

Lance hesitates. They'd talked about it a lot, late at night when it was wistful thinking, as soon as the war ended and it wasn't, as they packed, over a private com as they flew back, and in the room the night before, but the answer had always been questionable. Neither of them knew what Earth would be like. Neither of them knew if Voltron was needed.

"I think so, mama. We aren't sure what's next for Voltron."

Veronica raises an eyebrow. "What even is Voltron, anyways? I mean, I know it has... lions, or whatever, but what... is it?"

He cracks a weak smile. "I guess I should just start the story now. What do you know?"

They exchange glances, something bubbling through the air that he can't pick up on. He feels like he's lost something, maybe a part of his brain that helps him read their expressions or one big inside joke. His heart compresses.

"What?"

"We don't know anything," Rachel says, sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. She pats the spot beside her. "Only that... well, only that you're back."

He sits down next to her, forehead creasing. "W-okay, um, I'll try my best."

Even as he thinks through the beginning, the way he snuck out, finding Shiro--oh god, explaining what horrors the Galra did to him--his eyes catch his mom's. His voice suddenly doesn't work. How is he supposed to tell them about the gunfire and explosions and the gritty details of the past three years? How is he supposed to tell them about the hundreds of times in the healing pods, the time he was so close to dying that Keith cried for two days, and the battle that made him have nightmares that still haven't gone away?

He swallows. "Do you remember hearing about Shiro a few years ago?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Wednesday, November 25th!


	2. Act I, Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets the family :)

_June 24 - The Garrison_

**Keith's more nervous to meet Lance's family** than he was in battle. He stands in front of the tiny bathroom mirror, exhaling slowly. The flickering fluorescent lights deepen the blemishes of his skin. He widens his eyes, trying to make them seem less tired. It only brings a yawn to his lips, groaning in response. He just wants to meet them with the same level of energy that Lance talks about them with, and he can't even manage to straighten without his bones aching.

He casts a look down at his clothes. He's wearing what Lance is, a black undershirt, his jacket, and pants, but he finds himself wondering if he should track down something different. He should make a good first impression, right? He feels another wave of nausea burn through him. Oh God, he's meeting _all of them_ at once. He takes another deep breath.

Lance has told him so much about his family that he feels like he knows them all; his siblings, his parents, and his abuela all strike memories of nights they spent curled on top of Blue, but he worries now that he has the wrong image altogether.

He tries to clear his mind again, shaking his head. He shouldn't be as nervous as he is. Lance has said on multiple occasions that he would love them, and they would love him. Besides, he's used to fighting Galra and hand to hand combat. Talking to his family shouldn't be harder than that.

The problem is, he cares. He cares so deeply that he feels sick, so deeply that he can feel longing aching in every bone in his body. He tries not to think too far in the future, but he can't help it. He wants their approval. He wants to be a part of the family, like Lisa is. He wants his mom to meet Lance's. He wants Lance's dad to say yes when he--

No. He's getting ahead of himself. They're not there yet, so _desperately not there yet_ , but he knows it's in their future, hopes it is, somewhere, and he's worried that'll change. He's worried Lance will take one step into his old life and stay. He huffs out a breath of air, turning away from the sink. He fumbles with the door, hands full of the snacks he stole from the break room he was shown to by the soldier asking him questions before.

He turns, filtering air in and out slowly.

He runs over the names in his mind. Marco, his wife Lisa, Luis, Rachel, Veronica. Lance's dad, quiet and formal, Lance's mom, sharp and kind. He closes his eyes, moving to a stop five feet from the door.

"Hey, Keith!"

He turns. Hunk waves from the end of the hall. Keith glances towards the doors, then turns back the way he came, towards Hunk.

"Hey," he says hesitantly. "What're you up to?"

"Pidge and I are working in a lab down the hall," Hunk smiles, glancing to the doors he was about to go through with a flicker in his eyes as if amused with why Keith is so pale. "I was going to grab some supplies. What're you doing?"

Keith stops as they meet in the middle. Keith waves back to the double doors. "He's with his family. I'm... meeting them."

"Oh man, you're gonna love them. They're so nice."

He perks his lips in a nervous smile. "I've heard." He tilts his head to the side. "Is your family here? Have you seen them?"

He imagines he must've already seen them if they're here. He thinks back to the wreck Lance was, chest barely gripping for air, desperation seeping from his voice. Keith doesn't know how the soldier managed to say no to him. He's only seen him like that three times since he met him--when Keith left with the Blades, when Allura died, and in the hospital room--and he never wants to see it again.

"They get in in an hour," he says brightly. "I think I'll go back with them for a while. Is that what you and Lance are doing?"

"I don't know. How long are you going for? They don't need us to stay?"

"I talked to Shiro. He said we'll take two weeks off to stay with family before we group up again to talk about what we're doing. Even then, he thinks Voltron won't be needed. Coran and the coalition seem to be doing just fine." A massive grin holds on Hunk's face. "We're home for good."

It should make him ecstatic. It doesn't. The word 'home' churns in his gut, reminding him of the look Lance gave him when he accidently referred to the castle as 'home,' not in judgement but in a quiet sadness.

It reminds him that the castle never really felt like 'home' anyways, not in the same way Lance talks about his family or Hunk talks about the recipes he learned from his mom. It reminds him that the Garrison didn't feel that way either, maybe nothing ever has, and maybe nothing ever will.

The closest thing to 'home' is Shiro and Lance, and he doesn't know where that puts him.

"Man, I've never seen you look this nervous. I promise, meeting his family is going to go great."

He sucks in a deep breath, blinking out of his haze. He had almost forced himself to forget. He lets out a groan. "I think I'm wired better for fighting Galra."

Hunk laughs, a hand clapping on his shoulder. "Just be yourself. They'll love you." His eyes widen, remembering something. "Oh! Hey, Shiro just told Pidge and I to bring our coms when we leave, so if you're going with Lance just remember to bring them. We'll be in touch."

Keith blinks out of his own problems. "Yeah, okay. Yeah, if I don't see you before you go... I guess..." He holds out his arms, hands still clutching the food he brought for him and Lance.

Hunk hugs him. He forgets how comforting they feel. "You'll get so many hugs from the McClains. Hope you're not already sick of them."

He laughs. "I'll survive. See you soon, man." He pulls back. "I'll miss fighting with you."

He will, he decides, and it hurts a little to see him start to step backwards, the gap between them lengthening.

Hunk points at him. "We'll set up a video game tournament. You might kick my ass in real life combat, but I bet I'm better at Call of Duty."

He has no doubt about that.

"You're on. Bye!"

"Bye! Good luck!"

He's gone through the elevator a moment later. Keith's smile fades, chest feeling heavy.

It feels like an ending, a bittersweet one. It's nearly the one they've been hoping for after all this time, back with their families again, standing in one piece, but Keith feels the strong ache of reminiscence and the stronger pang of grief cloud the happiness. All the movie nights they spent in the castle are gone. The conversations over coms as they soared through the sky are gone. The team breaks apart around him.

At first he thinks it's selfish to be feeling the pain of surviving when Allura is gone from them, but he can almost see her, standing there with those kind eyes, telling him his feelings are valid. It doesn't make him feel less guilty. It just rounds the edges of his shattered chest.

It's an ending of the last five years, but it feels like a lifetime. He supposes that maybe his life hadn't really started until then.

Eventually, he turns, staring towards the doors.

Lance is waiting on the other side, no doubt thrilled for him to meet everyone he's been going on and on about. Lance is waiting on the other side, and he hasn't eaten breakfast yet, and he needs to eat, and Keith knows he probably hasn't slowed down since he stepped through the doors. Lance is waiting on the other side, and he doesn't really care where home becomes anymore. He'd follow Lance into a black hole if he asked. The least he can do is drive to Arizona for two weeks.

Lance is on the other side. It gives him hope that it's a beginning, not an ending.

He hesitates anyways at the handles. He closes his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he opens both.

**\----**

A soft smile perches on his lips as he swings the door open, eyes catching the scene. It's a fairly standard waiting room, groups of chairs creating lines that linger close to chairs sitting along the wall. Lance sits at the end of one of the lines, a kid on his lap. Maybe Sylvio, though Keith can't be sure. He's in the middle of a description, hands gesturing and eyes glinting.

In the second before anyone notices him, the image is softer than Keith is expecting. It isn't high energy, like Lance sets them out to be. Instead, the rest of the family is quiet, listening.

Rachel sits in the chair beside him, exactly how Keith imagined her. Her hair drifts down her back in waves, face just as elegant as in the photos, even when she's listening intently. Her leg is propped up, an elbow draped around it.

On the row against the wall, Lance's parents are seated. They're both are paying attention, but Lance's mom seems to have a pressed look of concern on her face that contrasts deeply with the amazement on the kid on Lance's lap's face.

Marco and Lisa, a child walking clumsily between them, sit on the floor with their backs to the door. He can only see the side of Luis and a portion of Veronica, also on the floor, but it's enough to identify them.

He feels a certain comfort at just their existence, bodies of the faces they stared at, Keith running his fingers through Lance's hair, wishing he could help his homesickness.

Lance's eyes catch. "Hey!"

Keith steps fully into the room, the nerves fluttering back at him. "Hey."

Rachel stands, stepping towards him as she points, throwing a look to Lance. "Is this the boyfriend?"

"This is Keith," Lance says, giving him a sparkling smile.

Keith returns it weakly, heart fluttering. "Hi," he says awkwardly, glancing around the room and unable to meet all of their eyes.

Rachel holds her arms open, and Keith meets them, hugging her back. His hands are awkwardly full.

"We've heard a lot about you," Rachel says quietly, voice gentle. "All good things."

"Same here," he says, and he can almost feel his affection for the stories he's heard. He wonders if she can hear it in his voice. "It's nice to finally meet you."

He meets Lance's dad's eyes, a lump rising to his throat. A clap on the shoulder distracts him, throwing his attention to Marco. Rachel pulls back.

"I'm sorry in advance for my son," he says.

"What?"

There's no time to explain, whisked off into an enthusiastic hug from Veronica, forceful enough to destabilize him before pulling back an instant later, holding him at arm's length.

"Lance, I can't believe you got a space boyfriend!"

Keith sends an amused grin to Lance, suddenly visible.

"Did you bring me _snacks_?" Lance asks, suddenly realizing what he has in his hands. He's already standing, moving around Veronica who drops her hands.

"They didn't have much," he admits, passing it all off.

"Hell, beats goo."

"Language," Marco warns.

Sylvio giggles, and Lance gives an apologetic smile, setting the food down on the seat beside him and scooping him into his lap again. "Sorry. We've been in space."

Luis meets his eyes for the first time, giving a nod and a smile. He returns it.

"I don't hear _Keith_ swearing," Veronica says playfully.

Lance's mom pushes his hair back as Lance unwraps the breakfast bar. " _Mijo,_ if they weren't feeding you, you should've asked us to bring something."

He tilts his head away, but Keith knows him well enough to see that he doesn't really mind it. He seems to stop himself from pulling fat enough away for her to reach.

Mrs. McClain gives a broad smile, moving towards him with open arms. Her hug envelops him, patting his back warmly. "I am so glad to meet you. He needs someone to keep him out of trouble."

Her voice is too quiet for anyone else to hear. Keith gives a laugh, mostly because _hell,_ it's not like Keith can ever stop him. She pulls back, winking as if she knows. Keith feels a warmness embed in his chest.

Keith meets Lance's dad's eyes for the second time, swallowing. He moves towards him. He holds out his hand. Mr. McClain clasps it. Keith shakes how Shiro taught him, thankful he forced him to listen despite Keith barely ever using it. He swears he sees a fraction of a nod. He prays it's one of approval. His heart is racing.

"Here, Keith, sit here," Rachel says, gesturing to the seat she was previously in. He gives a timid smile, sitting down. He moves the rest of the food. The rest of the family settles back in.

"So Keith, tell us about yourself," Victoria says, leaning forward. She's got the same mischievous glint in her eye that Lance gets sometimes.

He parts his lips, not sure what to say. Rachel saves him, tilting towards him with a kind smile. "Do you have any family here?"

Keith wonders whether she means on the base or on Earth. He swallows. Neither are looking good for him. His chest twists, bracing for the pity he'd expect when telling a big family that he has very little. "Uh, no. No, my dad died when I was a kid and my mom's... in space."

"Doing what?" Luis asks curiously. There's no hint of talking down, and as he looks around, he sees none of it in their faces.

"She's a part of the blades." He looks to Lance, wondering how much he's told them. He doesn't jump in, so he continues. "Basically a Glara-led resistance."

"She's even better at fighting than Keith is," Lance says, mostly directed at Sylvio on his lap. He figures there'd been a lot of talk about Keith's fighting abilities, because Sylvio looks at him with a quiet amazement.

As if Keith's focus unlocks his ability to speak, Sylvio spews words all at once.

"Can you teach me how to sword fight?" He asks, bouncing. "And how to punch people? And how to shoot guns?" He mimes shooting across the circle, making bad gunshot noises with his mouth.

Keith smiles. He isn't a big fan of kids, always awkward around them, but Sylvio has so much energy, reminds him so much of the childlike attitude that occasionally comes out in Lance, that he feels his defenses push down a little.

"If you're looking for someone to teach you how to shoot, you should ask sharpshooter here," he says, throwing a look to Lance.

Luis snorts. "Please tell me nobody actually calls him that."

Lance huffs in reply. "As a matter of fact, they do, and they _should_."

Keith meets Luis' eyes, shaking his head. He grins back.

Lance's mom reaches across the walkway, her hand running through Lance's hair. "Just tell me you weren't putting yourself in danger, _mijo_."

He can think of at least fifteen times off the top of his head where Lance ran straight into it, but Lance blows it off.

"Ah, you know I wouldn't. Keith's the impulsive one."

"I'm not..." He closes his lips, tilting his head to the side. "Mm."

"So you'd just do the initiation ceremony and wouldn't ask questions?" Rachel asks, a mischievous glint in her eye that makes him hesitate.

"Initiation ceremony?" He repeats.

"He's already asking questions, Lance."

"And I thought I trained him well," Lance jokes back, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"You pilot the red lion?" Marco asks.

Keith nods. "And Black for a bit, before Shiro came back."

"Came back from where?" Sylvio asks, squirming. Lance holds onto him, unwrapping the bar.

Lance gives him a look of warning, one that he understands immediately. If his mom hasn't heard of the battles Lance threw himself into, then Keith has the feeling the summary had left out a lot of danger, fear, and pain.

"He just went on a quick mission for a little," Keith says. "I took over as Black's Paladin and Lance took on Red."

"If the red lion was piloted by Lance, then who piloted the blue lion?" Veronica asks.

"Princess Allura." Her name feels like cotton in his mouth. He swallows. His heart aches all over again.

Rachel's voice is quiet. "The one who died, right?"

They both nod. Keith feels sick. He doesn't say anything, and for a moment, neither does Lance. Lance's mom murmurs something to him in Spanish. Lance responds softly. Then he straightens, pushing the grief away. Keith tries to do the same.

"Well, you've heard what happened and I'm choosing to decide we're done grilling Keith, so what's new with all of you?" He casts looks to Rachel, Luis, and Veronica. "Any significant others I should know about?"

Rachel smirks. "Luis?" She asks purposefully.

" _Rachel_?" Luis asks back, barely a millisecond of pause between them.

Lance brightens. "Okay, Rachel, you first. Who is it?"

She leans back. "His name is Alex."

"Oh?" Lance askes. "Do we get a last name?"

"You haven't given _us_ a last name," Rachel says, right on the end of his sentence.

Lance smirks, leaning forward as if accepting a game. "Kogane."

"Swindle."

"Major?"

"Neuroscience. None?"

"Space," he waves off. "Smart?"

He gives up blinking between them, setting his eyes on Luis, who give him an amused smile. Lance was right, he thinks he'll get along well with Luis. He seems to be the most bemused at their antics.

"Academically. Common sense?"

Lance laughs. "No. Street."

"What is happening?" He asks Luis.

"They've been like this for forever. It's like they have their own language."

Veronica smiles sadly. Keith doesn't know how to interpret that.

"One to ten?" Lance is asking.

A hesitation, the first one in their exchange. Keith looks to Rachel.

"Six," she says, eyes narrowing in thought. "One to ten?"

"Eight."

"W-hold on," Keith interrupts. "Is this a rating? How come I don't get a ten?"

"Not exactly," Rachel says. "Not a personal rating. You should be honored, Lance hasn't gone over three."

He turns to Lance, confusion clinging to his face. A three to an eight. What does any of it mean?

Before he can ask about Lance's sudden affection in his eyes, Rachel speaks.

"Luis?"

"Her name's Makala."

"Do we like Makala?" Lance askes, looking to Rachel first.

"We like Makala," she responds.

Lance looks to Veronica, who nods. "She's pretty badass. She surfs."

"Marco?"

"We have not met Makala."

"What? Luis," Lance chastises playfully.

"Not my fault," Luis says, raising an eyebrow and leaning back.

Keith blinks. Is that a hint of tension? He looks between Luis and Marco. They stare at each other.

"Okay, what's going on?" Lance asks. He sets down the rest of his bar as if suddenly not hungry. He admires that he's able to eat at all. Keith can't manage to.

"We moved to Florida a few years ago," Rachel says quietly. "These guys stayed."

Keith doesn't quite understand the appalled tone in Lance's voice. " _What?_ Why?"

" _Abuela_ wanted to be by the ocean again," Lance's mom says, but Lance shakes his head.

"N-why didn't you go with them?" He asks, face twisted, staring Marco in the eyes. "Whatever happened to raising kids close to family? Close to _mama_?"

Keith swallows. It seemed to be an opening for confrontation, something he tries desperately most of his life to avoid. Don't get him wrong, he gets into plenty of fights, but not like this.

"Whatever happened to raising kids on the farm?" Marco shoots back.

"Who cares _where_ , that's so far away from everyone. Why—"

"Because it wasn't far from _you_."

"I was in space! Arguably I was the same distance from—"

"What if you came back?" Marco asks, not yelling, but close to it. He quiets. "What if you came back, and you tried looking for us, and you couldn't find anyone? Not even your goat, who, by the way, is a real pain."

It's silent. Silent, not quiet, even Sylvio stilling his movement.

"I didn't think it was right, okay? So I didn't go."

Keith braces, ready for another explosion of an argument, a bickering, a fight. Lance opens his lips.

"Okay," he says simply. He appears to release it all, but his hand finds Keith's fingers, squeezing tight.

"Are you at least coming home now?" Luis asks.

Marco looks to Lisa. "We'll think about it," she says. "We have Sylvio to think about. He's starting school soon."

"I'm starting second grade!" He grins.

Keith blinks. Lance to seems are the same question, bouncing Sylvio. "What month is it?"

"June," Veronica offers. "Twenty-fourth."

Lance's dad, for the first time, speaks. He has a low voice that makes Keith straighten, realizing how relaxed he'd gotten in the conversation with his siblings. He'd nearly forgotten he has someone to impress, someone who he should be formal with.

"Lance, are you coming home with us?"

His lips parts, speaking a few seconds later. "I-I don't know. When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow," his mom says. "Cindy is staying with _tu abuela ahora._ "

Lance asks a question in spanish, fully lost to Keith. His mom responds. He gave a slow nod.

"I'll have to check with the rest of the team."

Keith squeezes his hand. "I saw Hunk. He's leaving with his family today. He said Shiro mentioned a week or two break before we regroup to talk about it we're staying or not. Hunk brought his coms."

Where the news failed to excite Keith, he gets a second chance as he feels his mood brighten with Lance's eyes.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Lance asks, eyes flickering around the group. "Until tomorrow?"

"They have been very kind," Lance's mom says, "do you have to go?"

"No," Lance says. "Not yet. We have time."

For the first time in a long while, it's true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a biggie! Coming tomorrow as a special thanksgiving gift.
> 
> I have the first act written, so it's mostly revisions, and I'm so excited for the story to take off! Thanks to everyone who left kudos and/or bookmarked this work, I appreciate you. I hope y'all stick around :)


	3. Act I, Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: mentions of over-stimulus / mild panic

_June 25 - Northern Florida_

**Lance stares out the window,** eyes glued to the rushing landscape. The comfortable, easy smile on his lips hasn't lessened since they stepped foot outside the base two hours ago. His body itches to sprint through the grass, to grab the branches of the trees and climb through the leaves like he used to when he was a kid. For now, just watching Earth pass them by is enough to keep his heart whole again.

He could get used to this, he decides: Keith's arm around him, Earth languages, and the rolling hills.

"You've probably outgrown your other clothes," Rachel hums, not looking up from her magazine. Lance had to restrain himself from stealing it from her as soon as she pulled it out. Trash celebrity stories, now _that's_ something he missed. "We'll have to go shopping."

"You don't have to mom me, _mama_ will do it enough when we get home." He's not really paying attention. He tilts his head to stare as a city starts to pass, the outskirts turning busier and the buildings growing taller.

"We're making up for lost time. Who mom-ed you in space?"

"Hunk," he and Keith say at the same time.

"Then I'm glad he gets a break. You're a handful."

He scoffs, muttering something about Hunk loving it, but his heart aches a little. He rotates the band on his wrist, a button press away from calling the rest of the team. It's been radio silence for the past two days.

He misses them in the way he missed coffee and calling home when they went into space. He misses them in the way one does when their presence had been a guarantee every day for two years, in the way he missed Keith when he left for the blades the moment he stepped into the dinning room. He misses them in the rawest concern that he might not know how to live without them.

He stares out the window again. Are they appreciating the hills, too? Are they doing everything they promised they would do? He takes a slow, deep breath; he reminds himself they're only a button click away; as the train rushes through a station, the brick wall zooming past, he remembers where they are.

He casts a look to Rachel. He knows there's millions of things he wanted to tell her, but he can't remember any of them now. He catches the cover of the magazine.

"Who's Tayden Burns?"

Her eyes snap up. "Oh my god. Veronica's going to kill you. She's in _love_ with him."

His face scrunches, looking at the cover again. He's alright, he supposes, but he isn't _that_ hot. Besides, he's got a cocky glint in his eye that Lance doesn't like.

"He looks like a dick."

Rachel snorts. "Don't tell her that."

"So he's famous?" Keith asks, a hesitation in his voice that forces a smile onto his lips. He knows for a fact Keith never bothered with anything pop culture. His efforts now, as much as Lance knows he doesn't really care, are adorable.

"He's a singer," Rachel confirms. "His brother's Elliot."

Lance blinks. "Who the fuck is Elliot?"

She slides the magazine over the table to him, pointing to a photo on the page. "Elliot Burnes? I thought he was already a thing when you left."

He shakes his head, frowning, then pauses. "I don't... I don't remember." He studies the picture. "Maybe he was. He's a singer too?"

"Sort of. He does a lot."

"Mm."

He flips the page, eyebrows furrowing at another article, some woman with an article titled "America's Favorite Influencer." He turns the pages until he gets to the next story. It's a band he doesn't know. Followed by them is a couple, recently engaged. At "How This App Became the Most Popular Social Media in the World," he hesitates, eyes turning up to Rachel.

"I don't know what any of these are."

She gives a gentle smile. "Neither does Luis."

It doesn't make him feel much better. "What does Luis do, anyways? What do _you_ do?"

She brightens. "I'm working with a campaign right now, speech writer."

A smile cracks across his face. He feels warmth where there hasn't been before, even with the passing fields.

"That's awesome!" He's about to ask about the election when he realizes... "what month is it?"

"Summer," Keith says unhelpfully, quiet enough for just him.

He's almost forgotten Keith is there, feeling guilty a second later. He should be including him in the conversation more, but he barely remembers how to talk to just Rachel anymore.

She laughs, reaching for the magazine. "June. Jeez, how many times have you hit your head?"

Lance shoots a wide eyed glance to Keith. They have a silent conversation. _You didn't remember either, right?_

Keith squeezes his hand. _No. You're fine. I've been watching. Okay?_

He takes a shaky breath, nodding. His head turns away, barely catching Rachel's raised expression, bearing into him like she knows exactly what kind of conversation it was. He wonders if she can still read him as well as she used to be able to.

"Care to explain?" She asks.

He parts his lips, then closes them tight, faltering once more before the words spill out. "Uh, okay, but you can't tell anyone."

She crosses her arms. "I'll only tell Luis. And maybe Marco. And if Veronica asks, I--"

"Okay, fine, but not mama."

Her head tilts, eyes narrowing. He knows she wants to argue with him, but she doesn't. She just nods.

"The altean healing pods are good," he explains, "but they warned us there might be some long term effects from when we got hurt."

Her chin raises, eying him even more warily. "Like?"

"Like... Keith's shoulder sometimes hurts."

"It's not that bad," Keith rushes as soon as Rachel's eyes turn to him. Clearly it's not just him afraid of her lighting fast concern.

"Okay," Rachel says slowly, "so what's all of them?"

He blinks. "W--all of the injuries?"

She nods. Lance glances around them. They've been talking fairly quietly, and the train itself is filled with too much chatter for anyone to be listening, but he still feels weird getting more and more personal with so many people around.

"Uh, okay, Keith's shoulder, my knee, his back..." He glances over at him, silently asking if it's alright to keep going. He nods. "And we've both hit our heads a lot. Which they don't think is a problem," he adds, rushing, barely getting the words out.

"But it might become one," Keith says, much steadier. "And... for the record, I've only gotten two concussions."

Rachel snaps her head to him. "How many have _you_ had?"

He gives her a sheepish smile, wincing. "A lot."

"How many?"

"A lot," he repeats, eyes bearing into hers with the distinct message of _you don't want to know._

She folds. "So... what, you might have..."

Lance swallows, chewing the inside of his lip. "Brain injury... we don't know. It's nothing to be worried about, just... something to keep an eye out for."

She frowns, pursing her lips. "And you don't want to tell mama because...?"

"Because she'll worry." He swallows, voice lowering. "She's had to do too much of that."

Rachel studies him. Her arms cross on the table. "We thought you died."

"What?"

"We thought you died," she repeats, "we weren't told you went into space, we were told you died in an accident."

Keith's arm tightens around him, but he can't feel it. His face slowly falls.

Rachel looks down, taking back the magazine and flipping to a page with a forced interest. Lance stares. She's mad at him—furious. He feels guilt blur his vision and still his chest. They thought he was dead.

Frustration and emotion rattles in his brain. He's too deeply overwhelmed to think, rattled by the air conditioner and the sound against the tracks and the talking, the laughing, the shifting, the _things_ touching him, the seat, the arm around him, the _stupid air conditioning,_ and he just wants to turn it all off. His head pounds.

Keith finds his hand. He pries away, sitting up. He needs everything to stop.

"Bathroom," Keith mutters in his ear, and he almost tells him to _shut up, please_ when he realizes what he's saying.

He slides from the seat, heart pounding, moving up through the aisles.

He puts a hand to support himself on each seat, feeling lightheaded. His nails dig into his palms. He can feel every eye shift to him from under eyebrows, blinking, talking, speaking still.

He pushes past them.

"Eat your pretzels," a mom chastises. Someone else coughs. Keys clatter as a man shifts. Someone's ringer is on. A video plays quietly. A guy his age taps on the table. Lance's air shudders in his chest. It's too much, too much, too—

He fumbles with the bathroom door, locking it shut. His hands brace against the sink, clenching tighter, mirroring his forehead.

He stares at his expression in the mirror. His eyes close.

He's fine. He's on Earth. Keith is fine. They're all fine, all safe, all happy on vacation, relaxing with family, enjoying the planet they've been longing for.

He takes a slow, purposeful breath, then another.

The clutter is gone, locked out the door. It doesn't matter. It's nothing to get frustrated about.

He takes another deep breath. By the sixth, he feels lightheaded. He takes one more. The panic in his chest isn't going away, but it isn't getting worse, and he can work with that. Another deep breath. Another, another. Slow and steady, like Shiro always taught them. You're okay, he reminds himself.

Only once he feels as if he could pass out does he start to think.

He can't change what they were told. He can't fix it. He can't make it better. He can only be there now. Breathe. In. Out. Slow.

He did his best—he's _doing_ his best. He'll learn how to help ease the grief he put them through. He'll be okay.

He opens his eyes slowly on the glass. He'd deal with his rough appearance later, just as he'd deal with new clothes and telling his siblings things he doesn't know how to say.

He unlocks the door, stepping out. He gives a smile of apology to a man standing beyond, trading him to move down the hall again.

Keith catches his eye as he slides back into their group. Lance gives a small nod. _I'm fine._ He sits back down, leaning into Keith's arm once again.

Rachel is watching him. He trains his eyes to the window instead.

Breathe.

"You okay?" Rachel asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, just had to go to the bathroom."

He feels out of it, if he's being honest. The world still exists, but he's struggling to remember that he's a part of it. Keith's fingers run through his hair again. Lance finds his other hand. He traces his prints, hoping they'll ground him, hoping he can regain the feeling he had at the beginning of the day.

But as he stares out the window--is the train slowing down?--he can't find that love that he felt before. He can't find the peace. All he can find is the itching, the discomfort, that he should be doing something. He should be somewhere else.

"We're pulling in," Rachel says, her tone clearly guarded.

He takes a slow breath. "I'm sorry," he says, knowing fully well that those words didn't exist frequently in their relationship before he went into space. He used to just give it time to blow over, but now that seems like wasted time with her.

"It's okay. It's not your fault."

He bites his tongue from arguing with her, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I just didn't know that."

Her voice is softer, setting down the magazine. "I don't know why you would. You know you can tell us, right?"

He meets her eyes, forehead creasing.

"What happened."

His mouth is dry. "I did."

She raises an eyebrow. "You made it into a kids story."

He falters, lips gaping open. Oh. He doesn't know how to respond to that.

"All I'm saying is, you deserve to talk it out."

The train hisses to a stop. Lance doesn't move. None of them do, letting others flood to the aisles. He catches one kids eye, probably nine or ten, a wide expression on his face. Lance gives a weak smile in return.

"Come on," his dad says, leading him out.

"But dad! They're--"

"I know," he says gently, and as he turns away, the kid's hand in his, Lance catches something about rest and privacy.

Lance stares out the window, not to see the views of downtown Tallahassee, but to avoid the expressions on every person's face he sees, some in recognition, some in confusion, some in awe. Three years ago-- _five_ , he reminds himself--he'd love it. He'd soak up their compliments and charm them, making friends left and right. Now, he's tired—so, so tired.

"Come on," Rachel says when the crowd stills. " _Mama_ is waiting for us."

"Why didn't they just come with us?" Keith asks as they stood, reaching for their bags.

Lance shrugs, his mind still on Rachel's comment from before. "I think the tickets were hard to get at the same time."

"And they needed to pick up the car," Rachel says.

Keith lets out a huff of a laugh.

Lance raises an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Cars," he repeats. "That'll take getting used to."

He has a sudden idea, turning to Rachel. "Do you think _mama_ will let me drive?"

"No," she says immediately.

"Not even if--"

"No. You haven't driven a car in so long and you expect us to _not_ die?"

"I'm a great driver, I'll have you know. How hard could it be?"

"Absolutely not."

"Do you have any more luggage with you folks today?" A man asks as they pass him in the aisle.

None of them brought much, Lance carrying the one change of clothes he has, the Paladin body suit, his bayard, and a few items he'd picked up in space. He isn't sure what Keith brought.

"No, thank you," Rachel says.

They step out of the train, moving with the flow towards the station.

Lance turns to Keith. "Did you bring your bayard?"

He blinks. "Yeah," he said hesitantly. "Should I not have?"

He frowns. "I did. Why not?"

"Well, I don't know. I... hopefully we won't need them, right?"

Lance swallows. He shrugs, forehead knitted. He doesn't _think_ they need them, but they could never know. Besides, he feels better knowing it's there.

"You brought a sword?" Rachel asks.

Keith shakes his head. "No. Well, sort of."

She shoots him a look. "Just make sure Sylvio doesn't get to it. You'll be his Yoda if you're not careful."

Lance lets out a whining groan. "Can we watch Star Wars? Keith hasn't seen it and I miss it."

"Keith, you haven't seen Star Wars? What's wrong with you?"

Keith laughs. "Please don't get into it. Lance wouldn't talk to me for a week."

"Good job, Lance."

He smirks, playfully bumping Keith's arm. "I thought so."

They move into the station. Lance grabs Keith's hand, anxiety clouding his lungs. There's so many people, all of them loud and chattering. Lance scans the crowd. He tries to keep his focus on Rachel, but he twitches with adrenaline.

He catches his gaze on a man sixty feet away, standing still. He isn't moving. Why isn't he moving? He turns towards him, eyes starting to meet his.

"Lance."

He blinks, snapping his head towards Rachel. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry. What?"

"You okay?" He nods, his hand relaxing in Keith's. "Okay. They're outside. Do we need anything before we go?"

He looks to Keith, who shrugs. He just wants to get out of here. "We're good."

They step into the Tallahassee air, the sun beating down on them.

Lance's lips part. A grin slides across his face. For the first time, he can appreciate being surrounded by humans, all bustling around downtown Tampa, the heat baking his skin, the buildings and sidewalks so unimpressive after everything he's seen, but so beautifully simple. Everything's made of concrete and metal, windows glass and nothing more. He basks in it, eyes catching on the cars.

A laugh stumbles from his lips accidentally. There's a stoplight to his left, and grass, and trees, and it feels _real_ , not like how it felt watching it whirl past on the train. He follows Rachel to the car, his mom inside. Rachel takes the front seat. Keith and Lance climb into the back.

"Hi, _mama._ "

"How was the train?"

"Good," he responds easily, looking out the window again.

He lets Rachel and Keith make small talk, Lance trapped on the view of the palm trees and a woman walking a dog.

Lance groans. "Keith, can we go get Kosmo?"

"He's-- _no_. He's fine."

The car starts.

"Who's Kosmo?"

"Keith's dog. Wolf. I don't know. I miss him," he mumbles.

He does. It didn't take long for Kosmo to attach himself to Lance, sometimes teleporting to him without Keith wanting him to. He would flip between their lions, sometimes, nuzzling close to Lance's cheek as if he could feel his skin through the helmet. He misses him more than he cares to admit.

"I'll ask Krolia to send you a picture," Keith says, tone almost implying it's a joke, but Lance knows he actually will. He gets the feeling Keith misses the dog too.

"Why isn't he here?" Rachel asks.

"Believe me, he's way happier in space. He gets bored when we stay on a planet for too long."

Like Keith does. They turn out of the parking lot. Lance tries to get his bearings. "Are we going... s--east?"

Rachel turns around to meet his eyes. "I don't know, does it matter?"

"I guess not," he says with a frown. It's the first thing they figure out after they've landed.

It doesn't really, he supposes, but Keith responds anyways. "West."

"How do you know?"

"West Cypress Street," he says, nodding to the street sign.

"Mm. What if it's the other way, though?"

"Fifty-fifty."

He laughs. "Okay. Oh, how close to the beach is it?"

"Right on it," Rachel grins.

"No."

"Yes."

"That's awesome!" He squirms in the seat. "Can you see the ocean right now? Do you surf? Maybe Makayla can teach me how to surf."

"You know how to surf."

"Not _well_ ," he whines. "Plus, I think I forgot some of it."

"I don't get surfing," Keith frowns.

Lance grows a wicked grin. His body itches for the waves. For once, he knows he'll get to ease it.


	4. Act I, Chapter IV

_June 25 - Clearwater, FL_

**Keith assumed, foolishly, that their entrance would be quiet.** He's beginning to realize that nothing about Lance's family is quiet. They're bombarded by four different conversations the instant they step in through the door.

Veronica stands from the table. "Hey! Welcome home! We've got--"

"They're back! _Mama!_ " Luis starts loudly up the stairs.

"--but until then, if you want something--"

"Do you need any help with that?" Rachel is asking, gesturing to his bag.

Keith blinks. "What? Oh, no, thanks, I've got--"

He looks over as Lance drops his bag at the door and starts excitedly towards Veronica. "I like it! You have to show me around."

His mom appears at the top of the stairs, following behind Luis. "How was the train?"

"Good, I didn't--"

A hand grabs his. He blinks, Rachel giving him a warm nod towards the stairs. He casts a look to Lance, swarmed with Luis, Veronica, and his mom, and follows. The conversations don't slow as they remove themselves from it. Rachel lets go as they reach the top of the stairs.

"Here, you and Lance are staying in this room." She leads him towards the third door on the right, entering through it.

Keith looks around. The walls are painted a dull white, the bed neatly made, the dresser void of anything personal. It's different than the rest of the house, which, from what Keith has seen, seems to radiate a homely feel.

His eyes fall on Rachel, who stands in the center of the room, looking at him with a tilted head. He meets her eyes.

"My boyfriend has anxiety. Do you?"

Her bluntness throws him off. "What?"

She looks to the door like she can see through the floorboards. "You seemed anxious."

Keith swallows. His hand stuffs in his pocket. The other clings to the bag. "Uh, yeah. Well, no, I... I don't know." His chest sizes, and he forces it to rise and fall. Rachel doesn't continue, just looks at him with a searching expression. "I..." He gives a weak smile. "I'm not used to... this."

Rachel gives a timid smile. "The loudness?"

He almost laughs. He's heard that loudness pretty much every day for the past few years. "No," he rushes, "I mean, I'm used to that, just not when it's about... tours, and..."

Her smile fades. Her head tilts upright. There's a sadness in her eyes that makes him wonder if he's gone too far. "Not fighting aliens."

Keith gives a sheepish smile. "Yeah."

"I want to hear the whole story sometime," she says, shfiting on her feet.

"About Voltron?"

He thinks back to their conversation in the waiting room, or lack of, wondering how Lance would feel about that.

"No, about you."

"There's not really much to say," he says, and he means it. His life, as much as he doesn't want it to be, is pretty open. His mom left, his dad died, he went to the Garrison, got kicked out, and went to space. Lance knows all about that, and everything that's happened since. They _all_ do, really.

Rachel laughs, sitting against the bed, her smile bright despite the sincerity in her eyes. She's inviting in a way Keith never expected, as if he can trust her enough to say things he might not know how to say to Lance yet, as if she cares deeply for who he is, not just who he is in relation to Lance.

"Please," she says, raising an eyebrow. "You're hiding even more than Lance is, and he's hiding a lot."

His lips part. He debates blowing it off, acting like they aren't hiding anything, but something stops him. Maybe it's the way Rachel looks at them, or maybe it's how much he's heard about her from Lance, but a thought nags at him.

For years, the seven of them have had each other, and that's it. Keith isn't complaining. It's more friends than he's ever had, but space gets lonelier knowing there's nobody you'll go through the earlier stages of friendship with. For better or for worse, Keith knows nearly everything about all of them, and they know nearly everything about him.

The problem with them being together is that there's nobody to tell. The fights where they barely make it out alive are brushed under the rug. They were all there, so there's no need to relive them.

A part of him knows they both could have someone to talk to, a fresh set of eyes and ears, someone who cares. He chews his bottom lip. They could use another member on their team, now that it feels like its just Keith and Lance.

So instead of blowing it off, he swallows, and starts again. "He doesn't want you to worry."

"We're going to worry anyways, you two might at well just come out with it." She gives a twitch of her lips. "He was always so stupidly stubborn about his well being. Did that get better?"

Keith laughs, lowering his bag to the ground at the head of the bed. "If anything, I'm pretty sure it got worse."

He moves to sit on the mattress with her. She scoots so he has more room. "I had to force feed him cough medicine once," she grins.

Keith straightens. "Yeah! What's up with that?"

Rachel laughs. "I think he likes the dramatics. Probably doesn't help when he's got a doting boyfriend."

"So you're saying I should be meaner to him."

"Absolutely."

They laugh, the door pushing open a moment later.

"Oh _that's_ where you went."

It's such perfect timing that Keith can't help but keep laughing. He feels a little bad, Lance looking absolutely lost in the doorway, Veronica just behind him, but it doesn't fade his grin.

"Are you two talking shit about me?"

"Yes," Rachel grins, "now go away, we've got so much more to talk about."

Lance scowls, but he catches Keith's eye with a glint and turns away without a fight, which Keith takes to mean he approves of the activity. He knows Lance has been a little worried, not that his family won't be nice or that Keith won't be accepted, but that something will be off in their dynamic. So far, it seems everything is playing out how he wanted it to.

When Lance is gone, Rachel leans back. "When did you start dating?"

He hesitates. "Uh, it's kind of a complicated answer."

Rachel gives an amused smile. "We have time."

He tells her everything, about how he liked him for a while before he realized it, about how they fought for a few months, about the first time he told him how he felt, about their first kiss, about how he left for the Blades and how Lance promised it would be okay, that they would keep in contact, but he was never really sure whether they were dating and spent any moment they weren't on the phone aching for him.

He tells her about his mom, too, the two years Keith spent torturing himself over the idea that he'd be missing and assumed dead in Lance's eye only to come back with a few weeks passed for them. He assures her he still kicked his ass for not replying to his messages for two weeks, which she finds just as amusing as he thought she would.

He tells her about becoming the Black lion's Paladin (though he skips over the part about Shiro), and how hard it was to try to lead everyone with two years between him and Lance from his side only. He tells her that's when it got messier, when the battles got harder and they spent more time afraid than feeling like the heroes the universe told them they were.

He also, tentatively, tells her about the end of the war, when they were forced to realize things were changing, for better or for worse. They didn't know where they'd end up.

"Well, Lance knew where he was going," he clarifies, "but, I don't know, the Blades were still in need of help, and my mom's still out there, doing something to rebuild after everything, and..." He looks down.

"Do you wish you would've stayed?" Rachel asks. She's been a good listener, asking all the right questions at all the right times.

He shakes his head. "I mean..." He debates saying it. He rubs his lips together. "I don't know about later, or even in a few weeks." He glances up, trying to read Rachel's expression. He expects a twinge of disapproval. He finds a thoughtful nod instead. "I guess I kind of... assumed we'd go back, but..." He gives a breath of a laugh. "You saw him on the train."

He knows more than anyone that Earth will always hold a special place in his heart, that when times got really hard, that's what would keep him going. His smile fades a little. He looks down again.

"He looks at everything like he can't go without it again."

Rachel hums. "I don't know." He meets her eyes. They're soft, twinging on amused, as if she knows something he doesn't. "He looks at you like that too."

Keith swallows. It should make him feel better, but it makes him guilty instead. He wonders whether Earth in Lance's mind includes Keith, or whether he knows he'll get restless. He doesn't want to make him choose. He stares towards the window.

"He's really good," Keith admits. "Like... _really_ good. His instincts are better than any plan we've ever made."

"Where's the bar for that?" She asks, and it takes him a second to realize how quick she is.

He laughs. "Probably on the ground."

Rachel has a smile on her face when he looks back to her. "Enjoy your vacation," she insists. "Everything else will work out."

He sighs, leaning back. "I hope so."

"Plus, you can't be older than I am, and it's not like anyone my age has anything figured out."

"Twenty-two."

She frowns. "Lance is twenty-two. You went when you were fifteen?"

"What? No. Lance is ninet--"

Veronica opens the door, peering in.

"What?" Rachel asks, a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

"Mama needs help with dinner and I don't know where Lance went."

Veronica turns on her heel. Rachel stands up. "I'll take dinner, you can get boyfriend duty."

He figures that's fair enough.  
  
  


\--  
  
  


He finds him on the beach, his back to the house, staring at the ocean waves. Keith walks across the sand, not making any effort to quiet his movements, knowing Lance knows he's coming. He sits down next to him.

He doesn't look over. He doesn't know what he'll see--happiness, maybe, the same ecstatic joy he's had at every rock and tree, every car and person without scales or purple skin. He figures he'll see something else, something darker, something closer to what Keith feels, staring into the horizon, the sun setting.

It's gorgeous. There's no denying that. After everything they've seen, he knows how to appreciate these moments, the quiet ones, watching the sky turn into a vibrant red, reflecting off of the waves.

Lance's hand reaches for his. He holds on tight. His shoulder leans into his.

His eyes raise to the sky. Above them, above the fading blue and stars, galaxies away, there's so much _life_. When he was thirteen, he went out of the state for the first time. He remembers the ache as he stared at the map, realizing how big the country was, how little he'd explored.

Going to space felt like that, except galaxies were the size of his house and nothingness stood between him and the rest of the universe at all moments. Going to space felt like taking a step into his backyard and suddenly realizing he was at the foot of a door that led to everything that had ever existed. He had been in space for years and had only stepped far enough onto the welcome mat that he could just barely peer around the oak wood. They had caused an uproar, sure, they'd fought other ants to get a corner of the mat, but he knows, dread sinking in his stomach, that they hadn't even glanced at everything the universe has to offer.

After staring at the massive door, trillions of times the height of himself, he doesn't feel anything for the door to Lance's house or to the guest bedroom. Even gravity, which he'd spent his whole life trying to break free from, doesn't seem quite as secure as it used to.

Lance shifts, head resting on his chest. Keith takes a slow breath. His free hand slides into the sand. He grounds himself again. The sun is almost entirely set, the breeze feeling colder than it used to. He fixates on the waves, stretching towards them and falling away, wet sand pulling in the ocean water.

Often, the team would find themselves in the longue, recounting stories from Earth and dully listing things they missed. Keith missed his bike, the tree in his front yard, the bird that always seemed to be on his window sill. Lance missed snickers and the ocean and rain.

One night, Allura stayed behind, listening to their stories from Earth and what they missed. He remembers how excited they all got, explaining what it smells like after it rains and the way the waves pull in and out, glinting with the light of the sun. He remembers most achingly how they promised they'd show her, bring her coffee and donuts and drag her into the ocean and show her around their concrete cities and their constellations.

Lance must be thinking the same thing as Keith, because just before the last of the sun dips under the sea, he heaves a breath. "I wish Allura were here."

Keith doesn't say anything. He watches the sun. He doesn't believe in God, but he prays to something, maybe the stars or maybe whoever the door was made for. He prays for Allura, and hopes the secrets of the universe are kind to her.

They watch the sun until it's gone, fully, the sky a hazy grey. Only then does Keith shift, Lance moving with him, back towards the brightly lit house.


	5. Act I, Chapter V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the iffy schedule, teachers have been kicking my ass with finals and projects. We're back on track now!

_July 26 - Clearwater, FL_

**Lance flirts with awareness,** curling back into Keith. He's warm, arms curling around him with more energy than Lance could manage at his present consciousness. He grunts, eyes blinking open to his bare chest.

"Pass me the pen?"

Keith's fingers run through his hair. "What?"

Lance squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't know why he's confused. They've had the same routine for _months_.

"Pass me the pen?" He asks again, louder, clearer.

He feels his voice radiate through his chest. "I don't think your mom would like it if you drew on the walls."

His eyes snap open, pulling back from his arms. He props himself up on a forearm.

The mattress under him feels shockingly similar to the castle, but he's not in the castle anymore. The walls are drywall instead of metal, the window shining sun directly into his eye. He doesn't flinch away or cover them. He blinks in it, casting a glance to Keith.

"Holy shit." His face breaks into a grin. "Holy _shit_ , do you think there are birds?"

He slides from the bed, moving straight for the window, pulling the blinds open. Keith follows.

The view from the window faces the street, sometime just after sunrise, the houses lit up by the morning but still basking in the time before there's bustle in the streets below.

His fingers find the bottom of the window, pulling up. He can't see any birds, at least, not right away, but he hears one calling, drifting in along with the summer breeze.

Keith's arms wrap around his waist. He leans back.

"Are we going for a run?" Lance asks, hands clasping over his.

"Never thought I'd live to see _you_ initiating a run."

"What can I say?" He turns his head towards him, grinning. "The birds give me power." He sneaks a peck to his cheek.

"In that case, birdman, we'd better get dressed."

His hands slide from his. Lance spins to track him. He finds the leggings, one of two pairs of pants he brought, slipping them on. He makes a note to figure out his clothes situation soon.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," he says as Keith fishes in his bag, opening the door and stepping out.

He looks down the hall, realizing how dead their house is. He walks carefully, wincing at the creaking of the door. He flicks the light on.

Too late, he realizes he didn't bring a toothbrush with him. He finds some mouthwash, knowing fully well it won't help him much. They need a store run.

He heads back to their room. Keith opens the door just as he reaches it. Lance gives him a half-smile, nodding him silently through the hall. They step slowly, trying not to creak the floorboards on the stairs.

Lance presses his lips together to hold in a snicker as Keith creaks a step and halts, Lance nearly running straight into him. They barely make it out the door.

It takes them even longer to lace their shoes. Lance has to avert his eyes from Keith, who looks just as pressed as he does, trying to hold in any noise.

He practically shoves him out the door. He closes it tight before releasing the laugh.

"I feel like we're sneaking out," he grins.

"Except that it's..." Keith checks the time. He brought his coms. Lance's are still in his bag. "Six in the morning, and we're going for a run. Not quite the rebellious teen you used to be."

Lance parts his lips to make a joke, quickly turning back to the door, joke forgotten. "Oh, we should leave a note."

He creeps back inside, finding a pad of paper (he can't believe Earth still uses paper) and scribbling a quick note. He leaves it on the table. Turning back for Keith, he ushers him out the door, latching it once again behind him.

"Okay," he says once it shuts, "how far?"

Keith gives him a smirk, then takes off, down the street. Lance sprints after him, catching up before moving to their more comfortable pace.

He doesn't think a lot about the action itself when he runs. He isn't sure how, not when he despises most exercise, but he enjoys it more than he thought he would, and certainly more than he'd ever admit to Keith.

They pass houses, all similar to his family's. The beach beyond is gorgeous, making him want to forget running altogether and dive into the waves, but he's content for now keeping his neck turned towards it, trusting Keith will warm him if he's about to run into anything.

His mind wanders to the rest of his family, the ones he hasn't seen yet. He knows his _abuela_ is supposed to come later that week. Marco, Lisa, and the kids are coming in late tonight. He knows they've got aunts and uncles making plans, but, truth be told, he's lost track of where they all are and why they aren't already there.

He doesn't want to ask too many questions, either. He doesn't want to run into what they did the day before.

 _Dead_.

His feet pound on the asphalt.

He likely had a funeral, an empty-casket one. Where was it? In Florida, with the rest of his family, or back in Arizona like Marco would have wanted? Were there flowers in a vase somewhere, rotting, tombstone listing off one of the years he wasn't present for, a number to the end of the dash he wishes he didn't think about constantly.

He spent years trying to prove his family right by staying alive, assuming they'd be looking for him in the stars, but all this time, he was proving them wrong. His mom had to bury him. Veronica stopped being a twin. His dad--what had his dad thought? Is he avoiding him now because of that, or just because they haven't had time to catch up? Is he as mad as Rachel was?

"You're sprinting."

Lance's breath is almost too loud to hear Keith's words. He's at his side regardless.

He didn't realize he was breaking pace, but he doesn't stop. "Yeah," he manages.

"Okay," Keith says simply, and they keep at it.

Keith ran long before Lance did, and he used to leave him in the dust when he was frustrated at something. The better Lance got, the more he started to sprint with him. Sometimes they'd talk about it, panting, nearly out of breath, but usually they'd just run.

When Keith left with the blades, Lance did a lot of sprinting. When he came back, it was Keith that had to work to keep up with him.

Now, they exist pretty even. If Keith sprints, Lance sprints. On the rare occasion Lance initiates it, Keith is right there with him.

"Dead," he repeats out loud.

He clenches his jaw, picking up the pace.

His family thought he was dead. Not missing, _dead_. Dead at seventeen, gone, probably in some fake freak accident. Dead with Hunk, his roommate, and Pidge, who's mom probably didn't believe it, probably _knew_ she was in space, but not his family, not Hunk's.

They mourned him. They grieved for him. They had to sort through his clothes and things and posters and move it all away, thinking he wasn't coming back, thinking he was dead.

They felt what he feels about Allura for five years.

Victoria graduated _twice_ , had a grad party by herself, had nobody to fight over a shared cake with. She'd gone off to college alone, with nobody to call her and talk about how much they missed home together. He was supposed to _be_ there.

Rachel and Luis got significant others. How long before they told them their brother had died? How long before they shared their grief? How long did it take them before they showed them pictures of him?

And Marco, Marco with Nadia, a baby he _should've been there_ to meet.

Significant others he hadn't heard about. Graduations he hadn't attended. Hospital visits he hadn't been there for. The list keeps going.

His legs can't move any farther, stumbling to a stop, gasping for air. His knees buckle.

Keith's arms wrap around him, holding him tight as they drop to the asphalt. He's hyperventilating, his chest pressing close to Keith's and fighting for anything to calm him down.

One hand supports his lower back. The other rubs circles between his shoulder blades.

"It's okay. You're okay."

"I wasn't here," he tries to choke, but barely any sound comes out. "Why wasn't I here?"

 _Five years_ of absence, and all Lance has to show for it is two years of war. Three years were a fucking waste.

"Shh. It's okay. Breathe. In."

He jerks his chest up, following his words, but his mind is trapped. His aunts and uncles—does he even remember their names? When's the last time he spoke Spanish, really?

"Out."

Will he recognize them? How many more of his family died? How many have pictures of him are in their homes, a candle beside it?

"Again. In."

"I should've been here."

Keith holds him tighter. He figures his words are clear enough now to hear.

"It's okay. You're here now."

His arms find Keith's back, clinging to him. He's not crying. He feels like he should be, but all he can feel is guilt and fear. If he were his siblings, he wouldn't know how to look him in the eye and see anything but a tombstone. Some days he looks into a mirror and sees the same.

He doesn't know who he was back then. He shouldn't have to meet his family again.

"I just... I don't know how to do this."

Keith's hand cups his cheek. A kiss presses to his forehead before he speaks, the birds singing around them, the asphalt digging into their knees. "We killed an Emperor and spent two years fighting aliens in giant lions. We'll figure this out too."

He sniffs.

"Right?"

His nod is shakier than his breathing. He's right. They'll make everything work out--they always do.

He releases a breath, arms falling limp and pulling back a little, just enough to see him face to face. "How many miles in are we?"

Keith looks down, rotating the screen. "Two. What's your call?"

He looks down the street, then back the way they came. "Two more." He stands, his hand holding Keith's for a moment. They both squeeze before letting go.

They start at a jog. It speeds up, until they're back at pace. After running at varying gravities and on metal floors in the castle, Earth feels easier. He doesn't want to miss out on their usual eight miles just because he doesn't know how to live anymore.

He tries to clear his mind of everything, from funerals to space. Instead, he focuses on the rays of sun that hit his face and begin to warm the air. He focuses on the pavement underneath him, the very real Earth. He focuses on the salt and the breeze.

When he gets back, they'll have Earth breakfast, just like how Hunk made it, with ingredients Lance knows. They'll figure it all out.

Until then, he sets his sights on the street ahead.

He doesn't feel like he's the center of his life like he used to, but with Keith next to him, he feels their gravity start to adjust the thoughts in his head, orbiting around them. This time, there's nothing to pull them away, no Galra war or bombs or flashes of gunshots. Eventually, he hopes, they'll find a place in the solar system his family's created in the last five years.

If not, there's always space. Its voids are big enough for any orbits.


	6. Act I, Chapter VI

_June 26 - Clearwater FL_

**Keith piles into the back of Luis's truck,** Lance taking the middle and Veronica the spot just beside him. Luis starts the car, Rachel turning up the shitty car radio. Its sound is scratchy. The car surges forward, starting down the paved roads.

"Did you bring chips?" Lance suddenly asks.

Keith turns to shoot him a confused look, but he's looking at Veronica. She grins, passing a bag towards them. "Want some?"

"Don't spill any," Luis warns.

Lance snickers, pushing some trash onto Keith's foot with the side of his shoe. "Would it make much of a difference?" He asks as Keith glares, pushing it back.

"Yeah," Veronica adds through a mouthful of chips, "it's gross in here."

Rachel peers back. "Oh, I see," she grins, "you keep the front clean for _Makala_."

"Guess we know they haven't done anything gross in the back," Lance mutters. Veronica snorts.

"Hey," Luis chastises, glancing back in his mirror, "I--do you have your seatbelts on?"

"Yes," Lance says, reaching back for the seatbelt. Keith does the same, clicking it into the buckle. They fool no one.

"Did you not have seatbelts in those lion things?" Rachel asks.

Keith and Lance exchange glances. He isn't quite sure how he wants him to respond to that.

Lance hesitates. "No?"

Veronica raises an eyebrow. "That's such a lie."

"W-- _technically_."

"Keith, did _you_ wear a seatbelt?"

"Uh, no."

"You can't!" Lance defends as Rachel turns back over her shoulder. "It's like, impossible."

Keith hums in agreement.

"You're sitting in a chair," Luis says, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, okay, yeah," Lance folds, "if we're, like, _in space_ , then yeah, but not if we're... on missions and shit."

"Weren't you _always_ in space?" Veronica asks. "You haven't told us a single story where you were fighting on land."

Lance doesn't say anything. Keith glances over, finding him looking back, a wary expression on his face.

He feels like they'vebarely gotten around to talking about those fights and missions as casually as the others, and that's when it's just between them. He understands his hesitation, hell, he shares it, but how is he supposed to help slide it under the rug with Rachel peering back from the front seat, their talk echoing in his mind?

She's right. They do have a lot of secrets.

He reaches for the chip bag. "They sucked more," he offers, grabbing a chip. He meets Rachel's eyes. A twitch of a smile rests on her lips.

Veronica snorts. "Poetic."

"Where are we going, anyways?" Luis asks.

"You're the one driving," says Lance.

Thankfully, Veronica jumps in. "Let's go to Clearwater mall."

Lance tilts his head. "So what's, like... what do people wear?"

There's a pause. It's a valid question, and Keith finds himself glancing down at the pair of jeans he's borrowing from Luis and the shirt he's pretty sure is close to it's last life. They both have their jackets on over their shirts despite the heat. It's a comfort, a regularity. He doesn't expect they're too fashionable.

He glances at everyone else as they think for a second, really looking for the first time. Luis wears a short sleeved patterned shirt with a pair of shorts underneath it. Rachel has a cropped tank top and shorts, and Veronica wears a collared shirt similar to Luis', a loose tie catching Keith's eye.

"I don't know," Rachel finally says. "I don't think it's that different from when you left."

"You say that now," Lance says doubtfully, "but I'm going to say something looks good and I'll be wrong."

"Do aliens have style?" Veronica asks.

Keith laughs. "Yeah."

"Not very _good_ style."

"That's probably what they thought about you," Veronica smirks.

She's entirely right. Lance crosses his arms. " _Everyone_ thinks I have style. I never met a single organism who didn't."

Rachel jumps on the end of his sentence. "Keith, how many?"

He blinks, his brain scrambling for a number. "Uh, t--what?"

"Damn. So close."

"We stay on this, right?" Luis asks, glancing in his mirror again.

"Yeah, you're good. We're almost there."

Keith looks out the window. It's strange to stay in one place, even though it's only been a few days. There's been no battles, no attacks, and while it should make him feel at ease, it taunts him with reminders that they've yet to experience The Event, the one that causes them to take off again.

Lance bumps him, pointing towards a billboard through the windshield. Keith doesn't recognize the face on it until Lance speaks.

"Hey Veronica, there's your boyfriend."

It's the same man on the cover of the magazine. Veronica spins towards him. "How do you know about him?"

Keith laughs, propping his elbow on the window.

"Rachel had a magazine. What was his name?"

"Tayden."

"Such a stupid name."

"Hey!"

"He's not even hot, Veronica, it's my duty as someone who likes guys to tell you that."

"That's because _no_ men are hot."

"He's not a man, he's a child."

"He's four years older than us."

"Twenty three is still a child."

Luis laughs from the front.

"See, Luis agrees with me."

"Uh, no. No way am I getting in the middle of this. Lance, you're twenty-two."

Lance turns towards him as if to say _am I actually going insane or is he wrong?_ Keith does the math in his head.

"No," Keith says slowly, "because _I'm_ twenty-two, give or take."

"Tw-you're _twenty_. Oh, oh, wait, yeah, because you had the two years--that's so weird."

"So he's as old as us," Veronica says.

Rachel turns back. "Keith, you were fifteen when you went into space?"

"Huh?" He asks, mind aching in confusion. "No, I was eighteen."

"So you're twenty-three."

"I'm twenty-two."

Lance rubs his temples. "Veronica, we're nineteen."

"No," she argues, " _we're_ twenty-two. I graduated."

There's a pause. Lance turns his head. "Graduated... college. What the fuck? No, I was only in space for two years."

"Five years," Luis corrects.

"Two years for _you_ ," Keith realizes slowly, "four for me, five for everyone else."

They say it at the same time. "The quintessence field."

"We lost three years," Lance explains, "we weren't experiencing it, but three years passed without us."

Rachel meets his eyes. "Just like how you spent two years when no time had passed for anyone else."

He nods slowly. The swallow rests heavy in his throat.

"So, what am I, nineteen or twenty-two?"

There's a pause, where nobody seems to know the answer.

Finally, Rachel responds. "I think you're both."

Keith watches him carefully. He inhales slowly, then tilts his head to the side. "Well, Keith has me beat, he's twenty, twenty-two, and twenty five." He counts on his fingers. Keith watches them go up with a weirded-out stare.

"And twenty-three," Veronica adds. Lance adds a finger.

Keith groans. "I hate time."

"Well, I don't really care as long as we're still twins," Lance says, looking to Veronica.

"Of course we are," she says, but there's a troubled frown on her lips as she turns towards the window. Keith looks to Lance, hoping he doesn't catch it. He does, clearly, looking down to the trash on the floor, rubbing his lips.

Keith wonders how different it is. He's heard thousands of stories about him and his siblings, and none of them mentioned the vibe he feels now, like there's a wall between them all. Even _Keith_ feels divided from Lance.

They fall into an uncomfortable pause. He catches Luis glancing back, then Rachel, then them meeting each other's eyes. Luis clears his throat.

"What's everyone looking for first?"

Keith grimaces. He hated shopping back before he went to space, only gaining a bit of appreciation for it once they started exploring the shops on different planets. He liked asking the owners about the culture, how they got the materials, and what the styles mean, but even then he preferred looking at weapons rather than clothes. He just needs a few pairs of pants and an extra few shirts, he decides, and he'll be more than happy.

Lance shifts. "Uh, we don't have to... go to anything, right?"

He internally swears. He didn't even think about that. "Probably. We can figure that out later, right?"

"Where are you planning on going?" Rachel asks.

Lance groans. "We probably have some formal delegation meeting or party or something."

"Dances thrown in your honor," Veronica says dramatically, "what an _awful_ event."

" _You_ can take my place."

"At least you can drink at these," Keith smirks.

The laugh that escapes Lance borders on evil. "Pidge can't."

"How come you weren't allowed to drink?" Veronica asks, sounding genuinely curious. "How were they supposed to know you weren't legal? Do they even have a legal drinking age?"

"They didn't care," Keith said, "Shiro and--" His mind seems to jerk away from his body. He swallows. His words echo in his skull. "Uh, Shiro and Allura wouldn't let us."

It feels harder to breathe. The trees and buildings rush past too quickly. He looks out the window, blinking, hearing Lance continue in the back of his mind.

"They had to make sure we could eat everything without, you know, dying, and alcohol's pretty much poison on any planet."

The rest of the conversation slips away the farther it is to him. He feels like he's floating, hearing words vibrate into his body without hearing them, mind static.

"Keith," Lance says quietly, and there's other conversation, but nothing else reaches him. "You okay?"

"Um," he says, the only thing he can manage. His mind can barely form thoughts, trying and failing to think properly, and is he blinking a lot? He feels like he's blinking a lot. His eyes remain on the road. His head feels swollen.

He feels the car lurch with a turn, then again, a moment later. A hand finds his, and he turns, blinking. He can see fine, but he doesn't feel like he's really seeing at all.

Lance practically needs to push him out the door, hand still holding tight to his. Keith's feet hit the ground. Has it always felt so far away?

"Red," Lance murmurs to him.

He stares into the parking lot. His lips hang slightly open, processing the word. Red. His back leans against the car door, feeling too unsteady to straighten. He blinks. Red. He stares at a red blur, taking a long second to recognize it as what Lance is asking for and another even longer moment to articulate the name.

"Stop sign."

"One more, instead of orange."

He blinks. His eyes pry slowly from the sign. They fixate on a car. "Uh, tail light."

"Yellow."

He's all too aware of his blinking, if nothing else around him. He feels like every slide of his eyelids are trying to snap him back to reality. Yellow.

"The... car."

He realizes for the first time that his siblings are probably waiting on them. Lance doesn't rush.

"Green."

"Tree."

He straightens, squeezing Lance's hand to tell him he's grounded. He doesn't really remember _not_ being, only that he can see the trees and grass and pavement like he used to and feel Lance's hand squeeze his back.

Still, his heart pounds in his chest. He can't really remember what led him to be snapped away from reality, and it scares him more than he'd like to admit. He thought he was over this. He hadn't done that in... months, probably, not since he came back from the two years with Krolia.

"Blue," Lance says playfully, stepping backwards as they start for the other side of the car.

"The sky," he lists, trying to clear his mind, relaxing his creased brow purposefully, "that car, your eyes."

"Welcome back."

Breathe. "How long was it?"

"Mm, a minute or two."

Not too bad. They quickly find themselves back in the group. He avoids their eyes. He expects to see Rachel staring, but he finds only Veronica's eyes holding any bit of suspicion, the others simply walking forward as if they were waiting on them to tie a shoe. Keith wonders how obvious it was. He doesn't ask, partly because he's worried they'll say they all noticed, and partly because he doesn't want to alert them if they didn't.

His hand slips comfortably into Lance's, following Luis towards the mall entrance.

"Can we get pretzels?" Lance says excitedly, eyes brightening with the idea. Keith watches the way they sparkle with the sun.

"Oh," Keith adds, "popcorn."

"Corndogs."

"Kung Pao chicken."

"We're going to get diabetes."

Veronica throws a smile back at them. "Not with all that _running_ you've been doing."

"Shut up, Veronica, at least I go outside."

She sticks her tongue out at him. They reach the mall entrance, following the flow of people, bombarded immediately with a smell Keith had completely forgotten. 

"Where to?"

"We need toothbrushes," Lance says, looking towards what appears to be a general store, maybe for travel. Keith has no clue how he remembers these things. He'd probably forget and re-remember every time he tried to brush his teeth until he had to write himself a note. It takes a day for Lance to put it on his list, probably less.

"Oh, so you need, like, everything," Veronica says.

"Basically."

"Okay!" She says brightly, in a way that reminds him of Pidge. "Let's split up, then. You and Luis get the boring stuff, Keith and Rachel can find clothes, and we'll all meet back here in an hour."

"What're _you_ going to do?" Lance challenges, frowning.

She just grins, flashing them a smile that's so endearingly close to Lance from a few years ago that Keith can't help but mirror it. "See you soon!"

She's who Lance was, Keith is realizing, and maybe who he'd still be if he hadn't been through so much. It makes his smile waver as she bounds off, sneaking a look to Lance.

He scoffs. "Okay, whatever, but I'm switching the groups. Keith can get the boring stuff."

Keith doesn't want to try to argue. He has no grounds for why he should be allowed to clothes shop for them. He has no clue where to start. He follows Luis, adjusting his coms to be sure they're connected out of habit, and flashes Lance one last smile before turning away.

In the end, it's a good hour. He and Luis find that they share a dislike for shopping, so they get it all out of the way as quickly as possible. Luis tells him a little more about Makayla (it seems, even if he is the calmest of the siblings, he certainly has an admiration for the same personalities Keith sees in Lance and his sisters, as Makayla seems to fit right in).

They get toothbrushes and toothpaste and a few combs and razors and all of the things they had to scour the universe for just a few months ago. Keith feels bad about the money they're spending on him, but Luis tells him in a hushed voice that the government is giving them plenty to stay quiet about what's been going on in space. It makes Keith prickle, but he says nothing.

Then, after they're carrying bags of "boring stuff," they do a loop around the mall, and Keith talks a little about his mom and what she's up to. They stop at a candle shop for Luis, who tells him with a sheepish smile that he's trying to find a specific scent and has no clue the name. They end up smelling a lot of candles, and in the end, it's Keith that finds it (citrus beach day). Luis seems a little awkward in the beginning, but Keith doesn't even register that it might be strange until Luis shifts, and he's reminded of Earth gender roles again. As soon as Luis notices he couldn't care less, though, he opens up a lot more to him, not just about candles.

They're sitting on a bench by their meeting spot waiting for the others when Luis asks him a more pointed question, more than the casual asks about how the Blades work or whether he knew how to use a sword before he got to space.

"So do you have anxiety?"

He blinks, glancing up. "Why do people keep asking me that?"

"You fidget a lot," he says with a raised eyebrow, a hint of a smile on his lips. "And you keep looking around."

"Oh. I guess, I don't know." He's only aware of him picking at his nails then, and he tries to still them. It just makes him feel jumpier. "I never really noticed."

Luis shrugs. "Probably came in handy."

"Yeah."

It did. He always fought so jerkily, and he used to admire the way Krolia and the other blades members could fight like they were painting the air, not like they were stabbing their way through a battle. He'd brought it up to Krolia once, and she'd given him an amused smile. _"I could teach you,"_ she'd said, _"but you fight like there's always a way to save everyone. I think a lot of us could learn that."_ It had shut him up for a long time, and he thinks about it every time he pulls out his sword.

"Lance doesn't do that."

"No," Keith hums. "He's our sniper."

He never envied _his_ form of fighting. Keith couldn't handle it, sitting above them, eyes trained on every bit of the battle, needing to be everywhere at once without ever leaving his perch. Keith could sprint all he liked, but he'd get tired even easier in Lance's position. He always had a hardness to him as well, and sometimes it took an hour for him to relax after battle.

If Keith's hands fidgeted, he might find a chink in their armor. If Lance's did, he might kill the wrong guy.

"What's everyone else?"

"Pidge usually isn't on the ground. She'll be doing tech stuff or flying if we need her. Um, Hunk is usually with me and Shiro."

Luis nods slowly. "That must've been hard. Being seperated like that."

He meets his eyes, and there's a sadness in them, as if he's imagining being away from Makayla in the heat of battle. Keith falters. He swallows hard.

"Yeah. It was."

That's something he won't miss.

They change to lighter subjects after that, and by the time the others meet them, Keith has been laughing for the past five minutes about an embarrassing work story that Luis seems desperate to get off his chest. He slips his hand into Lance's as soon as he can, though, and doesn't let go even to accept a pretzel from Veronica, who's spent the past hour scouting out all of the different food places.

"I've got big plans," she says with a wink, and by the time they pile back into Luis' car, they're so full they're barely talking, and Lance's hand is back in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I'm realizing my problem with an upload schedule is that I have no clue what day it is any of the time. Sorry about that. I've been posting twice a week, but it's incredibly iffy what days lmao. I'd say I'll try to get better at that, but honestly I feel like I'd post less, so I think I'll stick to randomly being struck with inspiration to revise and post twice a week.
> 
> Also, I'm on act 2, and Y'ALL.


	7. Act I, Chapter VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! There will definitely be more updates now that finals are over.

_June 26 - Clearwater, FL_

**Keith lingers in the aisle** of the kitchen, fidgeting nervously. Mrs. McClain's back is to him, preparing a pan. Her apron ruffles with her movement, in time with the music playing, and she seems blissfully in her own world.

"Do you need any help?"

She looks up, a pleased surprise crossing her expression. If there's one thing he knows about her, it's that she has an ability to react nearly simultaneously with the stimulus. She's quick. "Oh, I don't want to take you away from Lance."

"He's still asleep."

He has been for the last forty-five minutes, weirdly tired lately, and Keith is running out of things to do without him. After they got back from shopping, they spent a good amount of time adjusting everyone's sleeping positions to account for Marco and his family. Between dragging a mattress from storage in the attic to the main level bedroom and dodging as many chores as possible, Lance had been more than happy to excuse himself as soon as they were finished.

Keith tried sleeping, but he wasn't tired, instead helping Rachel fit the sheets and find pillowcases until she left to wait for Marco, Lisa, and the kids at the station. He tried hunting down Luis, but he was off to go see his girlfriend (or looking for a part his coworker needed if anyone else asked).

With Keith newly sworn to secrecy, he searched for Veronica, finding her invested in some show he couldn't see himself getting into, though she offered a place next to her to watch. It was filled with pop references from the last five years that made Keith glad Lance wasn't there. She'd tried to explain, but after pausing it three times in the span of a minute, he figured he wouldn't have gotten it anyways, and left.

Now, running swiftly out of siblings and desperately avoiding Mr. McClain, who he's been told by all three before him is working in the garage, he turns to Mrs. McClain.

She doesn't ask him any more questions about Lance, waving him into the kitchen. "Do you know how to mince garlic?"

He nods, turning towards the sink. "Hunk made sure of it."

She laughs. "Good. I'm glad to know you ate something home cooked."

He dries his hands on the towel, turning back and starting on the garlic with a half smile. He's glad too. He hadn't realized how much it lightened the mood until he found himself missing their group dinners in the two years he spent apart from them. It certainly made space seem less cold.

Mrs. McClain speaks without looking up from the chicken she's browning. "Tell me, what do you like? Any sports or...?"

He hesitates. "It's hard to remember. I had a bike. I did a lot with that, fixing it, upgrading."

She hums. "Thomas is in the garage, if you want. I'm not quite sure what he's..."

Keith looks up as she trails off. There's a pursed look of confusion on her lips that turns to a knowing smirk.

"I see."

He feels like he should say something, clear the air, but she puts up a hand to stop him, giving him a sparkling smile.

"I understand. He can be... scary looking. Don't let it intimidate you."

Truth is, he hasn't really _seen_ Lance's dad. He hasn't been present much, which he knows has made Lance nervous. In the swarm of family members doting over their return, he's either been unable to break the barrier of energy or unwilling to. Keith can't help but wonder if he should reach out. A part of him worries it's his fault in the first place.

Still, he supposes there's a reason he hasn't already reached out. He processes it slowly.

He starts on the last clove of garlic she gave him. "It's not that, I..."

It seems a little stupid. He's fought in a space war and is intimidated by Lance's dad of all things. Still, the emotion doesn't go away with the realization.

"There, uh... wasn't a lot of... super masculine energy up there."

Not that he missed it. Between Shiro's pep-talks, Hunk's caring demeanor, and Coran's eccentricness, they had a void where a more traditional general would take over. He doesn't prefer it, he decided years ago. He _likes_ knowing they're there to listen if he needs. He doesn't care how much the directors at the Garrison would scoff.

From what he's seen from Lance's dad, Keith isn't someone he'd share his life story to. He's distant, and Keith doesn't know how to handle that anymore.

Mrs. McClain smiles, and there's a certain spark of teasing that he hasn't seen from her before but seems to carry on in the form of Lance and Veronica. She passes him some bell peppers. "I would guess not. Chopped."

He starts on them.

"My husband is... quiet. Give him a chance, I think you two might just get along."

Keith nods slowly, but his hesitations are no less prevalent. He likes their family, and desperately want them to like him too, but he isn't sure how to do all of this. He feels tense even now, when he should feel relaxed by their hospitality.

He tries to do the math in his head. They got there on the twenty-fifth, which means they've been at Lance's house a total of two days. Two out of fourteen, and he's already restless for the stars.

Another thought twinges at him. He feels every bone in his body itch to go back to space, torn between it and Earth, nearly at a draw. He wonders how long Lance wants him to stay--how long _Lance_ isstaying.

Does he feel the same restlessness that Keith does?

Perhaps it's the Galra in his blood that makes him unsettled for normality, the same primal force that led to Krolia leaving his dad and the Galra taking over thousands of planets. It always scared him. It still does.

He doesn't know if he can help his leaving.

He passes the bell peppers to Mrs. McClain, who sautes the onions, garlic, and peppers in the pan she just took the chicken out of. His eye catches on a family photo, sitting on the counter top. Lance is significantly younger, but there are no recent photos of him anyways.

For the first time, the thought crosses his mind that perhaps Lance doesn't want to leave.

"Oh!" Mrs. McClain says with a smile, peering at her phone. "They'll be here soon. Keith, will you get Lance and Veronica? Where's Luis?"

"Picking up a part for his coworker," he says quickly.

She sighs, drying her hands in a rush. "That girl takes up all his time." She throws him a wink. "Tell him I believed him."

He laughs. "Okay. I'll go get them."

"Gracias, mijo."

He turns, heading up the stairs. He goes to Veronica's room first. She's still watching that show. He knows on the doorframe. "Marco and Lisa are going to be here soon, I was told to come get you."

She smiles. "Okay, thanks!"

He ducks out, quieter as he enters their room. He closes the door behind him.

It's an entirely different environment inside the room. The air is clear from smoke, the door muffling the sound of the music, and Lance is still asleep, the cover and sheets strewn all over the mattress.

He didn't get it when people in movies watched other people sleep until he and Lance started sharing a room. He always woke up before him, and opening his eyes to Lance's relaxed face made his chest loosen, especially after a hard night.

He's learned every expression that crosses it while he's asleep, every place he holds tension, and he knows by just glancing at him that he isn't having a good dream. It isn't a nightmare, but he's more tense than normal.

Keith has no remorse as he shakes him awake.

Sure enough, Lance wakes with a furrowed brow. He grunts, then bolts up.

"You're all good," Keith rushes, "Marco and Lisa are going to be here soon."

He blinks at him for a second, reacquainting himself with the gentle afternoon sun through the windows and the drifting music. "Oh. Um, okay. Cool."

"Yeah." He sits on the edge of the bed as Lance flops back down on the mattress. "You okay?"

He hums. "I dont remember it, but it felt weird." Confusion laces his tone and brings a frown to Keith's lips, though he's not entirely _worried_. Weird dreams happen. "What've you been doing?"

"Bouncing around your family," he says, falling on his back, Lance's legs moving to make room, his arms resting under his head as he stares at the ceiling.

"Oh, good. Everyone?"

"Um." He props himself up on his elbows. "Not your dad."

His face falls a bit. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I figured."

There's a storm in his eyes as he slides from the bed, checking to make sure he didn't miss any messages from the team while he was asleep. Keith knows there are none.

He hasn't heard from the team, nothing more than each of their messages saying they've arrived at where they're going. He feels a twinge of sadness that he realizes a beat later is homesickness. He misses them.

"When will they be here?"

"I don't know. Soon."

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

They're halfway down the stairs when the door opens. The brewing darkness in Lance's eyes immediately brighten.

"Hello, hello," Marco says, voice hushed, carrying a sleeping Nadia.

The mood immediately shifts, still bright, but focused, and everyones footsteps quiet.

"Here," Mrs. McClain says, leading them towards the bedroom they'll be using. Silvio looks tired, too, but he isn't asleep, and he grins with three teeth as he finds all of them, bright as he meets Lance and Keith.

"You'll have time to play later, okay?" Lisa says, a hand ruffling his hair. "It's nap time."

"I'm too old for nap time," Sylvio mutters, arms crossing grumpily.

"I had a nap today," Lance says, crossing to Lisa. They hug. When he pulls back, Sylvio looks suspicious.

"Really?"

"Yeah. C'mon, we can be nap buddies."

He doesn't argue to that. Lance takes him in the direction Marco went, and Lisa greets everyone else.

It's a lot quieter and peaceful, and Keith smiles as Lisa moves towards him with no hesitation, arms open. He hugs her.

"Long day?" Veronica asks.

"Not too bad. Harder with kids."

Rachel raises a hand for Keith's hair as she passes, heading for the stairs. "Hard enough with these two."

He dodges, scoffing, and everything about it feels so natural that he doesn't feel out of place, just another addition to the McClains.

——

He finds it harder to slip away from them than he would have thought after dinner, engaging themselves in a game of spoons that brings Keith to the terrifying realization that Lance is the _least_ competitive in his family. He manages to excuse himself then, and makes his way into the garage, heart thudding.

It's cold, concrete walls pulsing a chilly and empty feeling, though there's certainly clutter everywhere.

Mr. McClain is a fisher.

Keith didn't know this, but it doesn't surprise him to see fishing gear scattered. He supposes the love of the sea must be a requirement, in one way or another. He finds him standing over a table made from a piece of plywood and two sawhorses, measuring marks on wood. Keith swallows.

"Hi," he says, walking slowly in, hands stuffing in his pockets. He quickly takes them out. He should be professional, right?

Mr. McClain turns. He looks a bit surprised, but not startled, and Keith would give anything to feel comfortable with the idea of being sneaked up on. "Keith. What do you need?"

It seems a bit stupid to think he wouldn't remember his name, but it catches him off-guard. "Oh, I was just--do you need any help?" He folds his arms over himself for the comfort.

He turns towards him fully now, blinking. He looks at him as if reading something in his demeanor. "Do you know how?" He asks, gesturing to whatever he's working on.

Doubt clouds the air, and Keith tries not to take it to heart. The accusation still pricks in his chest. Because he's gay? Because he's an alien? Or just because Mr. McClain is used to Lance, who Keith is sure would have no interest in helping?

He tries not to let it into his voice. "What's the project?"

"I'm replacing our window ledges."

Keith blinks. "Oh, yeah, I've done that before."

"Really," he says, eyebrows raising, though his voice isn't high and impressed, it's low and thoughtful. It still sounds unsure.

"My dad," he offers. "He had this cabin, and when he died I had to fix some stuff up."

His chest feels tense, the air uncomfortable, not how he feels with the rest of the family. Mr. McClain is still looking at him oddly—a bit more pleasantly now, but oddly.

"I see. Well, sure. I'm just measuring now."

They move around each other, and Keith gets passed the tape measurer.

He lines it up silently. Mr. McClain makes the marks, Keith moves it, and they work in complete silence. He still feels clouded by his comments. He so desperately wants to ask what he means, but Mr. McClain isn't Lance, and he assumes he'd just kick him out instead of argue and get over it like he and Lance would. After a long moment, Mr. McClain speaks.

"Usually I'd have music, but the radios broken. One project at a time, right?"

Keith forces a smile. "Right."

They fall into silence again. This time, Keith speaks. "How long have you been working on this?"

"Just started."

"What were you working on before?"

Bitterness seeps into his tone against his will. What was so important that he didn't have time to reach out to Lance yet? He looks up, and Mr. McClain's eyes are hard, as if he can see what question lies behind it. Why does everyone in Lance's family have to be so goddamn fast?

Keith swallows, heart thudding.

He glances down, but Mr. McClain doesn't make the mark. His fingers don't move. _Fuck_. His eyes trail up.

"My son died five years ago and reappeared talking about aliens and magic lions and a _boyfriend_." His eyes take him over. "Did he put you up to this?"

"No," he rushes, head shaking. "He wouldn't."

Mr. McClain purses his lips, picking up the pencil. He makes the mark. He has a storm in his eyes, and only then does Keith see any similarities between him and Lance. His mom, his siblings... they're all the parts of Lance that are accessible. His dad is hidden, the same quiet brewing, the same look that struck hope into Keith's chest on the battlefield and desperation off of it.

 _Talk to me,_ he's pleaded before. He wants to do the same now. He takes a slow breath, settling for the next best thing.

"I sorry. I shouldn't have meddled, I just know he misses you."

Mr. McClain looks back up.

"And for whatever it's worth, Shiro's like a brother to me. He came back like this, too, after being missing for years. I can understand a part of it, at least."

He gives a short grunt, eyes training back down. "He isn't your son."

"Part of it," Keith repeats.

He doesn't expect the snarkiness to go over well, but for the first time, Mr. McClain cracks a smile. "You're quick."

His heart thuds.

"That's good. Keep him on his toes."

Keith moves the tape measurer, smiling faintly. It makes his chest release a little. "I will."

 _Quick_. It's the sort of compliment that he'll think about for years, even though it doesn't sound like much of one on paper. Quick, as if he compares to Lance's family. As if they have something in common.

"I'm not upset about who my son is." Their eyes meet again, and Mr. McClain nearly seems to challenge him to argue. "But I can't say the same for everyone."

"I know."

"He's never brought anyone home before, and same with my daughter. Not with my siblings coming."

Keith blinks, not entirely following. "His aunts and uncles...?"

Mr. McClain nods solemnly. "I don't want trouble for you two here."

"We're used to—"

"Here," Mr. McClain repeats, and Keith feels a smile crack across his lips, a laugh escaping him.

He looks down, moving the tape measurer again, and the tension between them has released just enough for it to be civil—pleasant, even.

"Right. We'll be careful."

"Good."

"And... we aren't doing anything tomorrow. Um, Lance is free, for the record."

Mr. McClain nods. Neither of them touch on the subject again. They don't talk about the war, either, which makes Keith relax. It's all been about fighting and anxiety. They talk instead about fishing, which Keith knows nothing about. They talk about wood. They talk about cars.

An hour and a half later, when the wood is all cut, Keith makes his way up to their room, where Lance already is. He gives him a bright smile.

"Good?" Lance asks, as if his expression isn't enough to loosen the tension in his shoulders.

Keith puts a hand to his cheek, pulling in. Their lips meet, and only then does Lance ease.

"Good," he repeats, eventually, once they've pulled away.

Lance pulls him to bed.


	8. Act I, Chapter VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Add a little bit of... fluff

_June 27 - Clearwater, FL_

**Keith wakes up to screaming.** He jolts up, his arms grasping in the dark for Lance. He finds him quickly, his heart pounding in his throat, arms pulling him up, holding his head close to his chest and wrapping his entire body around him, one knee propping him up and the other tangled in his legs.

The screaming has stopped, thank god, but his panicked gasps haven't, shaking fingers clinging to his skin as if there's something more to grasp.

"You're okay," Keith chokes, his voice rough with sleep that's been scared away from every other part of his body. "Talk to me."

Lance gasps for air against his collarbone. "I--I was--" He breaks himself off in a shiver, curling tighter into him.

Keith closes his eyes, tilting his cheek against his hair. His own panic is beginning to subside, but the knot in his gut won't be loosened until the next morning, when the sun rises and everyone begins to wake and they can forget it all happened.

"I couldn't--"

"Breathe," he murmurs, his hand starting to move through his hair, gently, slowly.

He does. Keith tries to follow his own advice.

"I couldn't stop it. My bayard..."

He knows exactly what dream it was now. They both have their recurring ones, Keith floating through space for eternity knowing it's only seconds for everyone else, Lance trapped inside Blue and drowning, but the worst ones always follow the same script, whether it's in Keith's dreams or Lances.

Keith has nightmares about Lance dying more than anyone else, the occasional Shiro, the general team. He knows Lance has those dreams more often, and though he doesn't say it, he also knows he holds more of the stress on his shoulders.

As their sniper, he covers them when they're on the ground. Having dreams where he fails seem to come with the job.

"It's okay, we're all okay. Right? I'm right here."

His head shakes against him. He's about to list the rest of the team until he gets it right, but Lance speaks first. "It--it was _Veronica_. And I--I _saw_ her."

"Her dying?" Keith asks softly.

Lance sniffs. He's shaking. He rubs his back gently. "Allura," he manages to say back, and Keith's gut twists. His voice comes back in a sob. "She was so cold."

If there's anything Keith can say to make it better, he doesn't know it. He just holds him, rubbing his back, until his sobs quiet and the exhaustion bites at them again. Only then does he speak.

"Did she say anything?"

He's almost afraid to ask, but he knows how his mind haunts him with words they'd never say. He releases a breath of relief as he shakes his head.

"I feel like it was my fault," Lance whispers. "I know it wasn't, but..."

Keith presses a kiss to his forehead. His voice wasn't loud before, used to cohabiting without waking others up, but he's nearly silent now. Keith looks through the darkness towards the window, moonlight shining through.

"I know. We couldn't do anything," he says, but his heart is heavy and dark thoughts bite at him. In reference to Lance, it's all too easy to know he did everything he could, to argue relentlessly that he isn't in the wrong. As soon as he turns the lens on himself, he can't control the thoughts.

It's a long time before either of them move again. Keith holds onto him just as tight, Lance still pressed close to his chest. There's nothing else he can think of to say.

He feels himself start to drift off. Thoughts of Allura swim in his mind, so toxic that he barely seems to notice Lance's body falling slacker in his arms until his head rolls against his arm. Keith lowers them gently back down to the mattress.

It isn't for Lance's sake that he keeps their arms tangled in one another, legs twisted together. As he closes his eyes, starting to drift under as well, he can't help but think about her. One day, he promises himself, he'll find comfort in her name. For now, it only makes him hold Lance closer to him, as if he'll help him ward off the demons.  
  
  


\-----  
  
  


Lance knows exactly what kind of night it is as he wakes up to shifting. His eyes bob open, squinting at the digital clock in the opposite corner of the room. As Keith's arms slide from his, Lance sits up.

"Keith?" He mutters.

A shuddered breath in reply.

"C'mere."

It's too dark to see anything but his form, but Lance can imagine the exact expression on his face as he speaks, sniffing. "You can go back to sleep, I'm fine." His voice trembles regardless.

Lance finds his hand in the darkness. One day he'll make him see that he isn't a burden. Keith's fingers tangle with his. Lance takes the silent cue, scooting closer, his elbow leaning against his far shoulder and running fingers through his hair, hoping that his lean into his close shoulder will make his form less tense. He succeeds, Keith's head resting against his chest.

"'M sorry."

He closes his eyes, sighing. "I started it."

They rarely go nights with only one nightmare. Most don't have any, but when they exist, more are bound to come.

"Okay," he says, standing from the bed blearily. "Let's go."

They've played this game many times before. Lance falls back asleep curled in his arms. Keith handles his nightmares differently.

"No, I... it's okay. I don't want to wake anyone up."

Lance doesn't say anything, pulling him up. He follows.

He isn't concerned about his family waking up. Growing up in a big family made him a deep sleeper that only space changed, and he has no doubt his other siblings still sleep soundly through the night. Still, he's light on his feet as he leads Keith through the dark, feeling for the stairs. Where the day before had brought stupidly gleeful stumbles, the hesitations on the dark steps now are quite the opposite, breath held tight in his lungs.

There's a lamp in the corner of the dining room, which he lights to find his way around, leading a fully compliant Keith to the chair at the head of the table. He leaves his hand to get water, knowing that questions aren't going to get him anywhere.

It takes him opening three cabinets to find the cups, drawing out one, hesitating, then drawing out another. He fills them through the spout on the fridge, the sound breaking through the still night.

He turns back to Keith. His arms are folded on the table, shoulder tilted inward with his eyes fixated on the wood. Lance swallows, joining him slowly in the chair beside him. He passes him the water.

Everything, for the first time, is still. The silence has been drawing closer behind them for a while now, always combated by movement or flickering lights or the stream of water, but it catches up to them now.

Lance's fingers pick at the cup. He waits for Keith to say something he know will never come, wishing there was a way to see what's inside his mind. He blinks. The lamp suddenly seems too bright.

He's chosen a faded plastic cup, one he remembers, just as odd on the new table as the old couch is surrounded by two chairs he's never seen before in the living room he hasn't spent more than an hour in. Its image of some children's show is haunting, in a way, half the faces gone and the logo distorted by the dishwasher's cleaning. He wonders why they kept it.

His eyes trail up to Keith again. His water is untouched, eyes closed, arms still folded tight over each other. Lance takes a slow sip.

"So what was it, Blades or Black?"

It's usually one or the other, a deadly reminder of missions or stress nightmare about leading them into battle, watching the Galra wipe them out one by one.

Keith's eyes open slowly. He doesn't meet his. "Neither."

Lance's forehead creases, his head tilting with the hopes he can find answers hidden in the shadows of his face. "Then... what?"

He presses his lips together. His eyes find his, and it's a plead he knows more than he knows his own flickers of body language that Keith picks up on. Lance's chair slides back, his arms wrapping tight around his shoulders, Keith's arms hooking behind his torso in reply, and his head burying into his chest, just atop his heart. He wonders if Keith can feel the beating of his heart, wrenched in a tight pity.

Lance moves his hand to the back of his head, holding him tight to him. His shoulders start shaking, fingers holding tight to his bare back, weak, shuddered breaths faltering against his chest.

His fingers run slowly through his hair. He tries to keep his breathing level and even, slow enough for him to breathe with him if he can latch on to the steadiness. It's wishful thinking for a bit, at least.

"Me?" He murmurs.

He nods against his skin. Lance closes his eyes.

He wishes he knew what to say. He never does. He just keeps running his fingers through his hair, eyes closed. He lets Keith cry against his ribs.

"It's okay," he murmurs. "I'm not going anywhere."

His fingers tighten around his bare skin. Lance swallows.

"We're okay now."

He keeps going, muttering words until Keith isn't sobbing anymore, just holding him tight as if he's afraid he'll disappear if he lets go.

Something creaks. His eyes snap open, landing on Rachel, stood at the top of the stairs with a scrunched face. She wakes with the light, her vision following, meeting his eyes. He gives a pressed smile.

She asks a silent question. He nods. Keith shifts, hands reaching farther up his back. He turns his gaze down.

"You okay?" He whispers, hoping it won't reach Rachel.

He takes a slow breath in and nods. When Lance looks up, his sister's gone.


	9. Act I, Chapter IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of injury, mentions of gunshots, mentions of homophobia
> 
> Thank you all for 1,000 hits and 100 kudos!! I'm so excited to show you all what I've been working on and can't wait to hear what you think! As always, I appreciate everyone who takes the time to comment or give kudos <3

_June 28 - Clearwater, FL_

"What's happening?" Keith asks as soon as they reach the top of the stairs.

Lance leans over his shoulder, peering down into the main area. His fingers grip the rough wood of the railing.

It's a fair question. Music is blasting, the same song that woke them, the entire house uprooted. Mama is rushing around, weaving between the kitchen and the living room, yelling orders in Spanish to an increasingly frustrated Luis, who keeps calling back to tell Veronica to do it. Veronica is shooting him death glares and the occasional swear from the kitchen, cleaning the sink. Rachel is nowhere to be found.

"Oh no," Lance just mutters. He knows exactly what's happening.

"Lance!" Mama calls as she spots them. She gives a broad gesture towards them, eyes fixating on the table as she hustles over to it, pushing in chairs loudly. He groans. "Did we wake you, mijo? You can sleep."

An incredulous expression warps his face. Veronica gives him a nearly identical one from down below, though she looks more offended. He closes his gaping mouth, taking Keith's hand and dragging him down the stairs two at a time. 

" _Podemos ayudar,"_ he says, brow furrowed. He tries to catch up with her, but she's already moved on to opening and closing drawers in the kitchen. He drags Keith after her.

They _can_ help, and he isn't quite sure why she's giving them a pass now. Maybe it's his pride, but he spent years making up a million excuses, and it seems utterly unfair to get out of chores this way. He didn't fake having strep for a week and miss going to the movies with his friends to get out of doing the dishes for doing absolutely nothing. If he's going to dodge anything, it's going to be done right.

" _Tanto_ ," Veronica mutters to him as they pass her. He gives her a glare.

"What're we doing?" Keith asks.

"Uh, good question. _Mama_!"

She disappears into the living room. He huffs, hoping he'll catch her before she bustles off to do something else. He succeeds. She gives a vague gesture to the bedroom. "Ah, help Rachel with the bedroom, then."

"Which one?"

"Upstairs," she says, "Keith, the broom."

"What?"

Lance gives him a mischievous grin, figuring he'll figure it out eventually as his mama is off again, heading for her room. Keith has frantic eyes, starting off after her. Lance goes upstairs.

"Rachel?" He calls, peeking his head in her room, then Veronica's.

She's just begun fitting a sheet onto the mattress. Lance rushes to help her pull it right.

"Morning!" She grins. She has that same busy happiness she gets with tasks like cleaning, one nobody else in the family can understand. Mama and Rachel always thrive on pressure and business, dragging the rest of the family along with them like soaked cats.

"Morning. Who's staying here?"

"Nicolas': Sara and the kids, Valerie, and Sara's husband."

Nicholas is his mama's brother, older by a few years. Lance gets along well enough with Sara and Valerie, his cousins, but he supposes a lot could have changed, like the marriage that occured while he was gone.

"Sara's married?"

"And a mom of two girls. They're four and a year."

"And Valerie?"

"She has a girlfriend, but I doubt she'll bring her with the Galas coming."

He groans as they drape the other sheet on top. His mom's other sibling and her family of stuck-up, traditional idiots. "They're coming?"

"Not staying here, though. Maybe don't mention that you're dating Keith."

He frowns. "They can bite me. Are all of them coming?"

"Unfortunately." She tosses him a few pillows. "Oh! Daniel is cool now."

Lance huffs. "He's an asshole."

"Was. I promise. He comes here a lot, actually."

He purses his lips. He doesn't feel like he has any say, and he knows they've already forgiven him, but Lance can't help but feel ticked off at the idea of seeing him.

His mom has two siblings. They like one family, Nicholas', but they rarely see the other—the Galas. He doesn't know why they don't refer to Nicholas' as the Campillos, but he assumes using a first name feels more personal. They accept _them_ as a part of their family tree. As for the Galas, he doesn't get why they felt the need to come now.

"Who were Anita and Carlos' pissy kids again?"

The eldest of them, Anita, was the worst out of his cousins.

"Damien and Vanessa."

"How old are they?"

"Damien is fifteen and Vanessa is fourteen."

"Still dicks?"

"Are you ever going to run out of swears?"

"Not for them," he grins. They drape the comforter on top.

"They are."

"Lovely. Okay, so, Anita has Damien, and..."

"Vanessa."

"Vanessa, right. Fucking hell. Okay, so what about Jesus' kids?"

"Martin is fourteen, too."

"How's he?"

"Same as all of them." She sits on the bed. "Then there's Daniel. He doesn't have kids yet."

"Is he dating anyone?"

"No."

Lance brightens. "What about Sofia?" He asks. She was always so sweet, nicer than anyone in her family.

"She's doing great," Rachel smiles, "you'll love her."

"And Odalis?"

Rachel's smile falters, lip curling. "Shes..."

Lance nods solemnly. "Got it. So we've got one cool cousin there."

"Two," she corrects.

He hums, tossing a blanket at her. "One until proven otherwise."

"We've already decided," she says, spreading it over the bed.

"You can't decide without me."

Rachel scoffs, passing him. She has an air of confidence that Lance knows means she isn't changing her mind. He tries not to take it to heart. He's been feeling more and more lately like they _won't_ think differently about his being gone--not ever. Rachel will never think he has a right to revoke their sibling decisions, Veronica will never think of him as her twin, Luis will never look at him without that frown he always seems to be wearing, Mama will never be able to talk about the past five years, and his dad will never talk to him at all. He feels his smile waver. He swallows hard.

Rachel doesn't seem to notice, breezing through the doorway. She glides towards the stairs, no less graceful than she was when she still did ballet. "We can't take it back."

It takes him longer than normal to slide back into his normal banter. The words catch strangely on his lips. "You can, too."

"He's _cool_."

"I have no proof."

"The council has spoken."

"I'm bringing it to a re-vote."

"You can't do that."

They're still bickering by the time they get downstairs, and they're split up, Rachel rushed off to check the windows, and Lance sent to clean he and Keith's room. Keith is sent up soon after. The song genre has changed three times, each followed by a bout of muffled arguing, and now settles on some old pop that Lance hums along to passively as he folds the laundry.

"Who's your dad's siblings and which ones are we lying about us dating to?" Keith asks as soon as he walks in.

Lance scrunches his face, looking up from the laundry he's putting away. "Only my mom's side is coming."

Keith raises an eyebrow. "Why did Veronica think that, too? Your dad told me last night that they were coming."

He parts his lips, then moves past Keith, calling from the top of the stairs over the blasting music and vacuuming.

"Mama!"

" _Mande_?"

" _Solo tus hermanos_?"

"No," she calls back, and he can't see her, but he's pretty sure she's in her room.

Veronica slides out from the other bedroom down below. " _What_?"

He's glad to see she looks in shock as well. He tries to shake off any bad will he had towards them. Rachel's right. A lot has changed, and he's sure they have as well.

" _No conozco a nadie_ ," he whines to her.

"What makes you think _I_ know anyone?" She snaps back, headed up the stairs.

"Rachel!" He calls. "We need a recap!"

She comes from down the hall, a few feet away. "What are you all yelling about?"

He rushes up to her, dragging her towards their room. "We need help with names," he pleads. "Who's coming on dad's side?"

She laughs. "Why would dads side be coming?"

Keith, Lance, and Veronica erupt at once. "Keith said—"

"I know they're coming, I'm just—"

"Please, we don't know _anyone_."

Rachel pushes past them, moving for the stairs. Lance stumbles after her, tossing a grin to Veronica. He missed this chaos, more than anything.

"Mama! Who?" Rachel says, moving for the bedroom.

The music turns off. Luis has his hand on the speaker. " _Dad's_ side is coming?"

His mom comes into the room, looking flustered. "Dios—yes, they're coming."

"Why did you invite them?" Rachel asks, and she sounds _mad_.

Lance's grin fades. His gut clenches.

She gives her a stern look. "They wanted to come. They should be allowed to."

"After what they _said_?"

" _Rachel_."

" _What_?"

Lance's heart is beating irregularly. He feels as if he's found himself in a conversation he should _not_ be hearing.

"Now is not the time. They're family."

He grips Keith's hand, tight.

"They don't care!"

"Yes they—"

"They didn't when Lance died!"

The words feel like ice in his chest, melting slowly into his heart, trickling down his muscle. He isn't breathing.

"When we thought Lance died," Rachel corrects hastily.

He feels the eyes on him and can't move under them. "It's fine," he mutters. "Um, Keith and I..."

He turns around, heading for the stairs without any other explanation. He swallows hard as they reach a distance that'll hide their voices.

"They never really liked me," he mutters, nearly at the top of the stairs, "I ruined Christmas one year by coming out."

"Oh," says Keith, throwing a look behind them, though they're no longer visible as they move through the door. "So..."

"So, I don't think they would've been too compassionate about me dying." His throat feels tight. "At least, that's what they told me at Christmas."

His head snaps towards him. "That you should _die_?"

He squeezes his hand. "Just the whole hell speech. It's fine, I don't care anymore. I just thought they changed their minds."

To say harsh words in anger is one thing. To actually feel it when they thought he was dead...

Keith sits against the bed, pulling him towards him. He follows, throwing his legs over Keith's knees. He leans into his shoulder.

Keith hesitates. "You cared when..."

His chest throbs in pain. He can still feel the shot that came just a little too close to fatal. He can still hear Keith above him, trying to keep him talking and awake, assuring him he'll be alright. The cool grass. The blood. The yelling of the team in his coms. The _terror_ that hell would be the next thing he'd see.

He pulls away. He finds himself back to putting away laundry, mind escaping from the conversation. There are certain things they don't talk about, at least, when the lights are on and their voices could be picked up by others. That day is one of them. He distracts himself with the laundry. 

"Babe, maybe Rachel's right. Maybe it would be good to talk to someone about it."

"I don't want to talk about it," he mutters back.

"I don't mean now." He presses a kiss to his forehead, sitting next to him on the floor. "And I don't mean me."

Lance shoves the shirts into the drawer. "Who else?"

He shrugs. "There's people for it. You know, therapists..."

"Yeah," he says bluntly.

Keith is silent.

It takes a second for him to breathe. He eases his fingers back from the shirts. His eyes close for a second, chest unknotting. He lets it settle with his hands. Breathe. "Sorry."

 _I'm not talking about the shot,_ he tries to trick himself, _we're talking about therapy. You know about that. That's safe._

He clears his throat, opening his eyes. "Sorry," he says again, in the factual, detached tone that usually follows the correction, "I've gone before. Are you thinking about going?"

He meets his eyes.

Sometimes it frustrates him how he can find exceptions with himself and objectivity when he thinks of Keith. For Keith, it all seems so simple—they've been through a lot, and it makes complete sense that therapy would help, that he should talk to someone unbiased, and that they should go instead of relying too much on each other. For himself, it doesn't seem that straight forward.

"Maybe," Keith says, arms draping over his knees. "Maybe someone can do it over coms or something."

Lance pauses. His chest twists. He parts his lips to ask why that would even be necessary, why they can't just find someone in town, but Keith is already continuing, and he gets an odd prickle in his tense shoulders, as if he doesn't really want to know what he means by that.

"When did you go before?"

"When I was, like, fifteen, I think. I went for a few years on and off." He frowns. "I don't really know why I stopped, I guess it was just getting better."

"Depression?"

He glances over. "Yeah." He supposes that's what it fell into the most.

There's a beat. Keith looks down at the floor. "I think I have anxiety."

He raises a hand and runs it through Keith's hair, brushing it back. He hums.

"Do you think so?" Keith asks.

"Yeah."

There's no hesitation for him there. He's sort of surprised it hasn't come up in his mind before. He knows they've talked about it, but he's realizing now that the word _anxiety_ might never have been placed to it, at least, not for Keith.

"Even before space, maybe."

"Probably." He sits back, leaving the clothes forgotten. "Before your dad died?"

He pauses, then shrugs. "I don't remember."

"You know it's okay, right? I mean, pretty much everyone I knew had something going on, and that was before space." He moves his hand down to be around his shoulders.

He shrugs. "Nobody I knew ever really talked about it."

He hums, letting him talk.

"I guess Shiro did, but it took me a bit to realize it could actually help. I dunno. I had a lot of shit to work through, but you know that."

He does. Honestly, it surprises him how much more balanced he's gotten. He doesn't recognize him when he thinks back sometimes. It's hard to imagine he'd talk so openly with the same person that was impossible to small talk with a few years ago.

He gets that feeling again, that burning warmth in his chest that makes him think _I love you_ again. His eyes can't leave Keith, his hair still a little tousled, expression fresh and at ease. He looks alive, more than he did in the fluorescent of the flickering castle lights, acne cleared up more than usual (though Keith never had bad acne anyways, which always annoyed Lance), and he gets that rare feeling that he could pass so simply in a crowd of people his age.

He wonders if that's how others see them both--late teenagers or early twenty-year olds, not defenders of the universe, not Paladins--and the new role fits warmly in his chest. They can be kids again. They can relax again.

He kisses him, pulling back for an instant to mutter, "I'm proud of you" before sinking back into it.

"Lance, I—oh."

He breaks away, turning to catch Rachel's eye. She looms in the doorway, a flicker of a grin on her lips.

"I just wanted to apologize," she says, tone trickling off the last word like honey, as if it unlocks the ability to tease him. "But I see you're busy."

He groans, tossing a shirt at her. "Go away."

She lets out a gleeful laugh, closing the door behind her.

Lance buries his head into Keith's chest. "She's like Pidge all over again."

Keith laughs, drawing his jaw up with a hand. It cups around the back of his neck. "Doors closed," he notes.

Lance can't breathe, the air knocked from his lungs. He settles for gripping onto his collar, pressing himself to him. Keith lowers him down.


	10. Act I, Chapter X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I got a concussion, but I'm all good now :)
> 
> Not to scare y'all, but if you have any requests for any cute fluff with Keith and Lance or with the fam, commenting them before act two would probably be a good idea...
> 
> I hope you like it! Thanks as always to anyone who's commented. As an author, its 100% mood improving and I usually post a new chapter more frequently when I know there's people still out there!

_June 29 - Clearwater, FL_

**Lance stares at his reflection in the mirror.** He's been studying the wide grins in the old family photographs, memorizing the relaxed slouch of his shoulders and even expression on his face with the same focus that he attends to the holograms he recieves before battle. If Keith notices, he doesn't say anything, but the air leading up to his family's arrival is so tense that the house feels silent.

He forces a grin onto his lips. It wavers. He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. When he opens them again, his face has relaxed, skin easing, and he shifts his shoulders back.

A ping distracts him.

K: you good?

He leans against the counter. He types back a reply.

L: yeah, coming, you?

There's a pause.

Lance knows Keith's patterns perhaps better than his own. He knows exactly how long each reply should take, knows the difference between _yeah_ and _fine, yeah,_ and he gets the former, a little too late, a little too hesitant.

He thinks his brain is broken.

The time he's spent with his family feels like one hit after the next, and he _thought_ it was because worries follow him, but he's beginning to realize it's his own fault. He's finding ravines where there's cracks and electricity where there's sparks. He takes everything that should go to his head straight into his heart, where it stays, twisting at every emotion he's felt in the past five years, or two years, or however long it was.

He should've expected that his family thought he died. He should've shrugged off his family's comments back when it was Christmas years ago. He should recognize that reconnecting will take some time, especially with his dad, and not worry so much. He should tell Rachel everything she wants to know. He should relax. He should enjoy Earth. He should let it go.

Instead, it suffocates him. Every choice in word has a deep meaning, a bleeding truth. Conversation feels cunning, and arguments feel harsh. He's grown so used to reading body language for survival that it's no wonder he finds messages hidden that he couldn't find before.

Still, he's sick of feeling every change in the air, every glance, and every hint of conflict.

Noise erupts from downstairs. He drags himself from the bathroom. Throwing one last look back in the mirror, he straightens his grin, eases his face, and relaxes his shoulders.

Showtime.

He slides out of the bathroom and around the railing, moving swiftly down the stairs. He catches Keith's eye before throwing himself into the mob of welcomes to make his way over to him.

"Lance!" Sofia finds him first, eyes bright. He feels his fake grin ease more naturally.

She's so much older than she used to be, looking more self-assured. She's grown up a lot, features more prominent and adult, though she hasn't lost the same scrunch of her cheeks as she smiles. It's just as contagious as always. She pulls him into a hug.

"Lance! _¿Que tal_?"

He looks behind Sofia, eyebrows raising. _"Daniel?"_

If Sofia looks grown up, Daniel is a different person entirely. He's ditched the short hair, now wavy down to the base of his neck. He isn't tall and lanky like most of his family members are (with certain exceptions for Marco and a few others). He's grown out. He reminds him a lot of Shiro, oddly, not so much in appearance, but in energy.

He pulls back from Sofia, going in for a hug from him as well. He finds it easier to realize what Rachel meant while they're face to face.

"How've you been? What've you been up to?"

He laughs. "Not as cool as what you've been doing. Is it true, everything they're saying?"

They break away. "I don't know," he says with a laugh, "I haven't been paying attention to what they're saying."

Sofia grabs his hands. "You're home!"

The thrill of it hits him all over again, just like it did when he stepped into the waiting room. It hurts nearly as much. "I missed you all so much," he forces out, realizing that he hasn't actually said that yet, hasn't actually told them. He wonders if they know--all of them. He makes a note to tell them.

"We missed you, too."

"You are with Lance?" He hears through the crowd, and he glances over, remembering Keith again. He makes eye contact, and receives a _help_ in reply. He gives an apologetic look to Sofia and Daniel.

"Oops. Hang on. Sorry."

He slides over, worming around his tio who definitely wanted to talk to him. He throws a smile to tia Anita _,_ who has a raised expression.

"Hola," he says warmly.

"Ah, _Lance_ , mijo."

She launches into a string of Spanish, and Lance's chest catches. He blinks, trying to focus, realizing that this is the first time in two years that he's actually heard Spanish, at least, at this level. His fingers curl around his jacket sleeve. His lungs feel tight.

She's talking about the news, he thinks, but she's speaking so much faster than anyone in his family ever does, and doesn't slow to give him a chance to cut in. He throws Keith a look. He's looking at him like he should know what she's saying, and he's _right_ , he _should_ , but panic lodges in his chest, and he can't focus on much of anything.

She must have just caught him off-guard, unaware, but the thought crosses his mind for the first time that he could've _forgotten_ it. Is that possible? Can he forget Spanish?

He gives a panicked smile, taking Keith's hand. He makes some feeble attempt at a greeting, filling in words like _so good to see you again_ and _excuse me, sorry,_ dragging Keith back to Sofia and Daniel, back to safety.

"We should swim tonight!" Sofia is telling Veronica, eyes bright and glittering.

"Yes! Just like when—oh! Have you met Keith?"

Daniel shakes his head, tracking her gaze with nothing but confusion, but Sofia's eyebrows raise, a smirk sliding onto her face, fingers flashing to their fingers, still curled together.

"This is Keith, my—"

"Lance got a space boyfriend, can you believe that?" Veronica interrupts, tone bright, eyes brighter. Sofia's seem to spark with her.

He huffs. "Okay, first of all, I don't get why you need to put the 'space' in front of it, and _second of all_ —"

"Aw, Lance!" Sofia attacks him with another hug. "That's so exciting. I never thought—well."

His jaw hangs open in mock disbelief. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

She giggles, pulling back. "We just thought you were too much of a player," she grins.

"Oh, ha ha," he says sarcastically. "Sure, just because I have _game_..."

"Your slang," Veronica says lovingly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "is so horribly old."

Lance turns, a smile on his lips, ready to make a joke, but his eyes catch on Keith, his hands stuffed in his pockets, engaged in an awkward conversation with Daniel. Keith's eyes flicker around, not fully engaged, and nothing close to a smile is on his lips, even as he responds. Lance doesn't remember when their hands let go. He doesn't remember who let go first, either.

And there Lance goes again, finding swollen air where he should feel clear oxygen.

He tries to shift back into the conversation, but he finds them talking about something he hasn't been following. He plasters a smile on his face and tries his best to ignore the apathy he feels practically radiating off of Keith.

It... throws him off.

His family's been difficult to figure out. Their plans have been hesitant. His future seems muddled. But Keith... Keith's been steady. Keith's been normal. Keith's been _good_.

He's good with Silvio and polite at dinners and clicks well with his siblings. His mom loves him, his dad seems to be warming up to him more than Lance thought possible, but something's wrong, and he doesn't know what.

Something's off in the air.

Just then, as if they both could feel it coming, his wrist pings. He jolts to it, reading the words as fast as he can.

_Shiro > all_

_S: We need to call sometime in the next few days about the options for Voltron. Krolia has a few requests, too. When works for y'all?_

Lance glances to Keith.

"Everything okay?" Veronica asks gently.

"Yeah," he says, turning back from the wariness in Keith's eyes as he reads. "It's nothing."

It's just a call, he tries to convince himself, but as Keith's message responds quickly, he feels something root deep in his chest. Things are changing. He can feel it.

_K: anytime. What kind of requests?_

He switches off his alerts and falls back into the conversation.

"Dinner shouldn't be ready for a bit, we should go to the beach!"

Sofia sparkles with excitement. "Okay! Are you in?" She turns to Daniel.

"I'll go find everyone else," he says warmly, scanning the group for the other cousins and siblings. He gives Lance a steady hand to his shoulder, smiling purposefully at him. "I'll see you out there."

The words in response die in his throat, but it hardly seems to matter, Daniel turning away. The warmth that radiates through the McClain house again is undeniable. He feels his chest swell, clicking back in with the flow of family members.

"I'll get drinks," Veronica offers with a relaxed ease, no longer the rebellious cunning it used to be. She drifts off.

Sofia's fingers brush his hand. "Are you coming?"

"Definitely."

"Good."

He casts a look to Keith. When he looks back, Sofia is gone too. He turns his attention fully to him, stood against the stairs, eyes flickering to the chat Lance has muted.

"Shiro can explain a bit now."

Lance stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Can it wait?"

"I guess." His fingers pick at his jacket cuff, shifting on his feet.

"We're going to the beach. Do you want to come?"

"Um."

Looseness is in the air, and Lance lets his shoulders relax, a lazy smile peaking at his lips. "Talk to Shiro, you can meet us later."

Keith squeezes his hand in thanks as he passes, turning up the stairs, and Lance returns back to the crowd of his family, weaving through to find Sofia or Veronica.

At the very least, he said what Keith wanted him to say. He has to believe that's enough for him.

"Beach?" Luis asks, appearing suddenly beside him, and Lance nods. Luis claps a hand to his shoulder, moving for the doors.

"Do I ever get to meet Makayla?" He asks playfully. He drapes exasperation in his tone. They close the glass behind them.

Outside, there's a chill, Lance's feet sinking into the sand. The wind is still, though, the night calm and quiet. He inhales the sweet breeze.

"Soon. I swear." His voice has softened, and Lance doesn't know if it's from the mention of her or the intimacy between them, just the two of them for the first time in a while. "She's coming on the fourth, for sure."

"Will I like her?"

It's an easy question for him, one with little substance. Lance knows he will.

Still, he's glad he asked, if just for the smile that plays at Luis' dim features. "Oh, most definitely." His eyes meet his. "I'm going to marry her."

Lance's own smile aches against his cheeks. "Yeah? Anytime soon?"

Luis spreads his chest to the beach, spine straightening with a confidence Lance has only seen from men with a hundred times his influence, a thousand times his power. He looks to the stars in a way Lance can't—as if challenging them.

"We've got nothing but time," he says boldly.

The thought crosses Lance's mind that he would be a fantastic ruler, quiet enough to hold his plans to his chest and brave enough to execute them. Yet, Luis has a satisfaction even the best never had. He lowers to the sandy earth with a peace Lance has never felt. He leans back. Lance sinks to the ground.

"I like this for you," Lance says quietly.

His glance is lazy. "Like what?"

"This. Makayla, the shop. You seem... content. I'm happy for you."

He draws in a breath that's heavier than Lance would've expected from his loose shoulders. He looks at him a bit oddly, a bit sadly.

"What?" Lance asks, trying to play off a laugh.

"Nothing. Just... I talked to Rachel about this a lot. That's... sort of exactly what we wanted to hear."

The air hits him all wrong. He swallows. "What, 'I'm happy for you?'"

He gives a hint of a smile, and Lance's wavers away into nothing. He sees the image again of the gravestone he's never seen, feeling the chill of death meet him again, right where he's been afraid to let it touch.

"I am," he says seriously, searching his face, so much more grown than when he left. "Really. I would never want you to not be. I wouldn't want you to... pause your lives."

"I know," he says, but relief clings to his tone, and Lance realizes too much at once.

Lying against Keith's chest, his hand pressed to the wound, he hadn't thought there was much left to say. He remembers mumbling a few _I love you's_ near the end, just to be sure Keith knew, but never once did it cross his mind that his family (or Keith, for that matter) would need any more closure, any permission to keep living, any words to assuage their guilt.

It is _guilt_ that surrounds grief, that plagues his mind when he thinks of Allura, and it snaps something in him to imagine his family feeling the same way. It draws him away from his acceptance that guilt is what he should feel. He wouldn't want them to stop living, and neither would Allura. He wouldn't blame them, and neither would she. Why can't he accept them both as truth? Why doesn't it loosen his tight chest?

He misses her so much it hurts him, but he hasn't cried since the day she died. He hasn't let himself imagine her face. He hasn't brought himself to think of her for more than a moment before dispelling her away, before distracting himself with other concerns, lesser concerns, and he can't start feeling her death again.

Veronica's voice drifts over the beach, and he glances over. The house lights silhouette her form, carrying two big bottles of something that'll probably fuck them up before dinner.

"Let's go!" She yells, and she looks just as bold, just as powerful.

His last realization comes as a comfort. He's okay here. He's safe. He thinks he might even be happy, not in the way he was in space, purpose glinting off his sniper, but in a different way, in the same way Luis and Rachel are. This can be enough for him.

This _is_ enough for him.

It's another minute before everyone joins them, Daniel and Rachel and Marco and Sofia all making their way across the beach, throwing smiles carelessly into the air. Veronica passes the bottle. Lance doesn't know what he's drinking.

"To Lance's first _legal_ drink on Earth," Sofia smirks.

"Still not legal," he says, throwing the bottle back.

"Space time, don't ask," Veronica says.

Daniel takes the bottle as he passes it. "I'm gunna ask."

"I'm nineteen."

"Ew," Sofia just says in reply. "I feel like there's a lot of math involved in the rest of that explanation."

He laughs. "Probably. Hell if I know it."

"Ask Keith. Keith!"

Lance turns. Keith is walking up the beach. The air eases as he notes his loose shoulders and easy pace. He yells back a, "what?"

"What's the deal with the age thing? Mathematically."

He lets out a laugh, settling next to Lance. "I literally dropped out of high school and you expect me to understand space time?"

"You _what_?"

Lance leans into his shoulder. "I think 'kicked out' is the better answer."

Sofia straightens. "Did little _goody_ -Lance get a rebel boyfriend?"

He warps his face incredulously. " _Goody_?"

"Yeah, remember that one time—"

"Oh god."

"—when we were all at the mall and Rachel wanted that chapstick?"

"W— _no_ , okay, that was not being 'goody,' that was _following the law._ "

"I don't see the difference," she says, raising an eyebrow. "Family who steals together stays together."

"I bet Keith's stolen shit," Veronica says.

Lance turns to him. "Well?"

He gives a hesitant smile. "I... have... borrowed a few things."

"Of course," Lance mutters as the group erupts, Rachel yelling over them, her voice latching on.

"The plan was great, too!"

"Your plan sucked! It was _chapstick_. It's not even that hard to steal."

"You wouldn't know," Sofia says dramatically.

"Did you do it?" Keith asks.

The group erupts again. This time, Marco wins the loudest voice. "Wait, when was this? Where was I?"

"I was, like, thirteen, so I think it was when you were working with dad a lot."

"Wait, what?" Lance asks. "You worked with dad?"

"It was when he was first starting up. We were building his office."

He frowns. He doesn't remember that, only that Marco and his dad were gone a lot from the memories he had at the time. He'd never thought to ask why.

"His office took so long," Rachel says. "Even after you left it felt like it wasn't done."

"It _wasn't_. Always more to do with him."

"He likes to keep himself busy," Veronica waves, blowing it off.

The bottle passes back to Lance. He takes a swig as the conversation shifts, talking about some story with Daniel and Rachel that Lance is pretty sure happened after he left. He passes the bottle to Keith. He gives it to Daniel without taking a drink.

Leaned back into Keith's shoulder, he lets himself relax, listening to the stories trade off. He sinks back into the warmth.

He doesn't ask what Shiro said. He doesn't care. He lets himself ease into the life he should've had.  
  


——  
  


That night, Lance drinks in sea water and lets the ocean welcome him home. He clings to his family in the water, feeling every crash like a dance against his feet and every fleeting touch like a suit of armor—invincible. He sinks into the waves and doesn't care much that Keith is only swimming.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! I'll be reading all of them and replying! As an author, it's super gratifying to get comments, and it helps to keep the passion in it, so don't hold back :)


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